


Constants And Variables

by lokidiabolus



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hairdresser!newt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidiabolus/pseuds/lokidiabolus
Summary: Newt considered himself lucky until last week where he lost his dream job, his stability and quite frankly all his shit along with it, since the whole damn New York didn't want him to do what he loved. Among the aimless searching for a new life meaning he meets a stranger in a club, and his drunk self betrays him without giving a damn, just to add it to the pile of "let the life fuck me over properly this time". Little he knows his partner actually holds much more promise than he initially thought.





	1. Anonymous said: Clubbing!AU; You’re drunk or high or both and keep saying those /things/...

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if I ever learn... anyway! Since I still have so many prompts I had never done, and new ones keep on piling up, literally, I decided to put it into motion like this - using some of the prompts that are not too specific for this piece, one prompt, one chapter, therefore they are all going to be connected. It's the best way I could think of filling them without delaying even more ^^'
> 
> I hope it won't disappoint and thank you all for sending me these amazing ideas. Please accept this fic as a token of apology \o/

Night had been loud and almost brighter than day in the club. The colourful lights were scattered across the floor, jumping wildly from corner to corner, sliding from body to body dancing in a mad rhythm.

The crazy pace of life was almost palpable in there, in the sweat of the people, in the cold drinks served and spilled on the floor, in dazed youngsters tasting their first beer, in passionate embraces of lovers who didn’t knew each other until this night. All of it made the blood boil and breath hitch in addicting ecstasy and wild beat of music, and it was roaring in Newt’s ears like monsters ready to hunt its prey down. He had about five drinks already, cocktails and shots all mixed together while slowly parting with the comprehensive way of paying attention to his friends talking over each other, or laughing madly at jokes he didn’t even catch. Not even dancing cleared his bloodstream enough to be completely aware what he was doing and when there was a hand on his own, tugging him closer, he went, slowly crashing into an unyielding tower of muscle of somebody who smelled really nice, who asked him about his name and if he could buy him a drink.

“You can even buy me two if you want,” he answered sloppily, his voice needlessly flirty and the level of sultriness was still rising. Then he had a drink in his hand and was staring into pits of brown hell of the stranger’s eyes, and there was something captivating in them, something that didn’t trigger the _okay, you got a drink, now paddle away_ reflex he always had. There were no warning signs, no bad attitude, he just stared at him and probably even answered questions he got asked, but his memory was so vague on that part of the evening he didn’t even try to recall it.

What he did recall however were insistent lips on his, a hot, needy mouth sucking on his neck and tasting his skin, the grabby hand that clumsily opened his belt and fly and circled around him, the pulling and caressing that felt like a first time and yet still somehow satisfied him.

“This is not half bad,” he remembered the guy saying. “For doing it with a guy. Can we do more?”

“I’m not that kind of girl, cowboy,” he replied with an insane amount of giggles – and really, what was so funny about situation of this brow haired, tall and big eyed man – no, boy – crowding him against the wall while gradually bringing him to an orgasm with jerky movements of his hand like he wasn’t sure _how_ to? Newt should probably be terrified to be this easy, or at least annoyed to be considered such, but then his back arched and white wave washed over him like tornado, blissing out his over-worried mind into complete silence that felt too good to worry about anything else.

“You sure?”

Newt didn’t remember the rest.

He woke up in his own flat – alone – with a terrible hangover, but with all his belongings intact. It took him about another hour or two to get out of the bed, take a piss, attempt a shower although he almost threw up in the bathtub and then realize his neck looked like a vicious mosquito swarm had a field day with his blood for how marked he had been, even _above the collar_ zone.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, staring into the mirror with disgust. “Fucking drunk me, doing shit like this.”

The whole week had been a nightmare and last night only crowned his fucked up decisions piling up like badly played Jenga, successfully making it crumble. He felt like shit, his stomach hated him, his head hurt terribly and he made out with some random guy in the club like a complete slut that didn’t know what borders were.

Borders? What borders? Blasphemy.

The whole lifepath he chose backfired at him in an alarming pace, and, naturally, perfectly fulfilled the expectations his family put on him like a bad omen when he left them years ago. It had been on board of creepy how his father’s voice echoed in his head since his life started to crumble as if he was standing next to him with his ScowlTM, pointing at him and saying _I told you so!_ And it had been so powerful it even woke Newt up at night from time to time, bathed in cold sweat and his own self-pity.

Yes, he knew leaving family nest was one thing and moving to another continent another altogether, but all those years ago it simply looked like the best fucking decision of his entire life. Get out, start anew, screw the consequences.

Alas, the consequences caught up with him and made him his bitch.

Jobless, stressed to the infinite and beyond and now ultimately pushing his own limits to the point of self-destruct, all in a span of one bloody week over one stupid outburst that cost him the stability he built all from the scratch.

There was this thing – back in England they had family business his parents, mainly his father, wanted him to take over someday, naturally, and work there once finishing school. But Newt’s life goal definitely hadn’t been owning a pub and taking care of drunkards every day and every night (because let’s face it, it was a small pub in a small city and people were still the same there, a constant presence looming at the door in the morning, impatiently waiting for the sign _closed_ to be turned back to _open_ so they could refill they alcohol level back up).

Not wanting to take over the pub was already a really, really bad thing for his dad, something equal to murder or eating the last Doritos bag, but Newt delivered a finishing blow with wanting to work as a hairdresser. A lifelong, desired job of his never met the same amount of enthusiasm from people related to him by blood, not since he started aiming for it (at 13), not since he actively pursued it (at 18) and not when he got his certificate either (at 21). Despite being it 8 years his family labelled it as a _phase_ and dismissed it.

Well, until he shat on their expectations, bought a one-way ticket to USA and fled from The United Kingdom with a raised middle finger.

And it all basically went well in the USA, he found a job fast, he enjoyed it enough to say it was worth it, and after a year and half all the _ha, in your face, dad_ got back to him and kicked him off the high horse. With spiked boots. Repeatedly.

So he lost his job, his stabile income, and his reserves were slowly diminishing as well, so maybe the flat was next too, and at that point Newt simply didn’t have strength to care anymore. Nothing worked out anymore, like Lady Luck decided to cheat on him and pushed Madam Misery on him instead, and even though Newt was desperately trying to get a new job, everything eluded him.

Not qualified enough, not experienced enough, _not enough_. He avoided the hairdresser job altogether when the first salon he tried to apply to told him _oh, Newt? From Aviago? Sorry, but your references are really bad and it spread like a wildfire. Not sure any salon in the city would hire you._

So he gave up.

On top of this all he added _slut_ into his list of unflattering qualities and it fucked him up too – with all the hickeys he had over his neck. No matter what he wore, it was visible, and wearing a scarf during summer wouldn’t help either.

“Chances of success in today ‘s interview – zero,” he mumbled, staring at his reflection in the mirror, and it hadn’t been only his neck that looked pitiful, but his face as well. A thin, blond nothing staring back at him could never rise more than questions of his physical (and probably even mental) health, so if he talked about presentation, he wasn’t entirely surprised nobody would happily hire him.

And the longer it lasted, the worse he felt (and appeared).

“Oh boy,” he suddenly heard behind him, but as much as he would normally at least flinch or kick the intruder between legs, he just leaned against the basin and stared at his fucked up reflection harder, like he could make it disappear.

“A bear mauled you or what disaster is your neck sporting?”

Alby’s reflection appeared behind his and Newt rubbed his eyes tiredly before turning around to face his friend, just to get a cup with coffee from him. It smelled delicious and his stomach rumbled loudly as a response.

“Thanks,” he piped, sipping a little, and Alby stared at him harder. Despite the fact he had been drinking last night as well he looked fresh and sharp, in casual clothes that reminded Newt of high school and no real problems he had to face now. Alby usually had the power to make him more relaxed somehow, since his laidback attitude could back anybody up, but today it didn’t affect him as strongly and Newt refused to feel disappointed. Alby always did what he could for him and being in deep shit by his own mistake definitely couldn’t be pointed at his best friend.

“You look like shit, man,” Alby said without unnecessary prettiness and Newt didn’t need to be told that. His eyes still kind of worked for observing such inevitable fact. “I mean more than usual since last week, probably the milestone of shitty looks you had so far.”

“Thank you for your input,” Newt retorted. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not just the shitty look that’s bad.”

“Well, the look is already bad enough,” Alby shrugged and pointed at his neck again. “You disappeared yesterday like a ghost. Had to do something with this monstrosity?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And I don’t really remember, was smashed like hell,” Newt admitted unhappily and glanced at his reflection one more time. Still unflattering, maybe even more when he saw Alby as pristine as ever next to him. “But apparently, I’m also a slut now.”

Alby’s face scrunched slightly, his eyes browsing against Newt’s marked skin in a disagreeing manner before returning back to his face. Nobody needed to tell him The TalkTM was approaching in a lightning speed.

“Have you at least protected yourself?” he asked in a surprisingly mild manner and Newt blinked. He expected slightly deeper accusation of risking a random stranger for sex, or maybe an interrogation of who it was, how he looked like and what was his shoe size, but not this. Or at least not _only_ this.

“We didn’t really have sex as far as I recall,” Newt assured him, although his memories had been blurrier than election campaign promises. But he could still tell his ass remained intact and he sincerely doubted the stranger that cornered him outside of the club would be willing to play a receiving part, judging from the sketchy flickers of consciousness he had and words being said. “I actually think there was basically nothing much except of some hand jobs and, apparently, marking fetish of his.”

“I wonder where my life went wrong when I’m willing to listen to your sex adventures,” Alby commented dryly and stepped closer to inspect the hickeys properly, as if he was searching for deeper wounds. “But this is really disgusting, just saying. Who does this still? Teenagers that think it’s sexy to be bruised like a prostitute?”

“Possibly,” Newt mumbled. That person must have been unexperienced – he remembered the touches were really clumsy and uncoordinated, and him saying something about _guys are not that bad either_ , so maybe Newt simply served like a testing subject and somehow also passed as an agreeable experience.

Maybe it should give him some sort of satisfaction, if nothing else.

“Asking you if you know who it was is probably pointless though, isn’t it?” Alby turned Newt’s head to the side, inspecting the back of his neck, and one of his touches kind of hurt.

“Very,” Newt hummed. “Ouch.”

“He bit you,” his friend commented and pressed against the same spot again, sending unpleasant wave of shallow pain through him. “And so high. Collar won’t reach.”

“Just a perfect example of how luck left me,” Newt bated his hand away and rubbed the spot with a sigh. “I don’t know why my common sense didn’t kick in. It normally does, no matter how drunk I am.”

“Your drunk you have failed you.”

“It failed so bad, mate,” the blond agreed and let his hand fall back. “Is it even worth to go on that interview, looking like this?”

“Maybe they are going to like your fulfilled sex life?” Alby offered and Newt didn’t blame him for the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. “Yeah. Presenting like this wouldn’t really sell you as well as it should.”

“Thought so,” Newt said and rose up the cup of coffee. “Thanks for this anyway.”

“I assumed you’d need it,” Alby smiled at him. “I gotta go to work, but call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do,” Newt waved him off gratefully and the warmth of Alby’s support lasted until he heard the doors click and the flat dived back into silence.

***

Newt confirmed his decision _not_ to go on the interview right the moment he left his flat and people passing him stared like he grew another head as a good one. It was 34 degrees outside, he was sweating like a pig and refused to wear a collared shirt just to hide bunch of hickeys. On the other hand, a tank top maybe wasn’t the best decision he ever had either and he noticed some people pointed him out to their companion few times like he was a circus attraction.

To avoid crowds, he got himself a smoothie and crashed at the park in a relative solitude, leaning against the railing while trying not to maul over the unhappy future that still loomed above him.

He already mentally crossed out the pitiful homecoming – he would survive _I told you so_ from his father and _you finally got it together_ from his mother, but definitely not his own failure of returning home with his tail between his legs as they expected him to do. So yeah, England was a no-go.

Being a hairdresser, a dream job he was bloody good at, was a no-go as well, since all salons now knew he had a filthy mouth and vengeful streak, so the door remained closed.

What else could he be? Sure, if he _really_ wanted a job, he could always take something like a waiter or shop clerk, but as long as he still had some higher standards and enough money to pay the rent on his account, he wanted to keep looking for something _slightly_ better that could satisfy his creative soul, if not his dream job.

_Or I can move to another city… but. But…_

He took a deep breath and reached to his pocket for a pack, just to realize he didn’t have a lighter with him, and slumped against the railing with a cigarette in his mouth like somebody put a heavy boulder on his back.

Seriously. Since last week it was nothing but series of accidents and laws of unintended consequences, like an invisible imp sat on his shoulder and out of malicious spite made him to attract bad luck. What he touched, he spoiled. The food he cooked this morning got burned, the only everlasting flower in his flat withered even though he watered it and he seriously only waited for another disaster to arrive and finish him off.

“Here,” he heard suddenly and a hand appeared, holding a lit up lighter, making the cigarette he still held between his lips burn at the tip. He puffed a bit and inhaled a dose of the calming smoke to his lungs before letting it back out with silent thanks.

“Smoking kills tho,” the voice said again and Newt finally glanced sideways at a young man standing next to him, clothed in light blue shirt and jeans. He had messy brown hair – a hair Newt would immediately style differently if he was allowed – but that would be really weird so he kept his hands to himself.

“Yeah, so does tanning and eating too much hamburgers, we all gotta die somehow,” he drawled and inhaled once more to keep at least one of his hands busy.

“Old age seems like a viable option as well,” the youngster responded and swung on his feet. He had big, brown eyes and somehow seemed familiar. Newt couldn’t put a finger on why though.

“Too mainstream,” he said shortly and let out a puff of smoke. “Don’t you think?”

“You bruise easily,” the brunet pointed out while staring at his neck and Newt blinked in surprise at such notion. Wouldn’t common sense tell you _not to_ point out such thing? To avoid awkward sex conversations with strangers? “My bad.”

_Ah. Shit._

Of course he seemed familiar. It was the guy from the club.


	2. Anonymous said: "That is /not/ going to happen," he took a step back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You got sacked?”  
> “You can say that,” the blond cringed. Maybe booted out by a fire brigade would fit more. He definitely felt like they couldn’t kick him out fast enough – but then again it was rather warranted. “It’s complicated.”  
> “You got sacked from all hair salons in the whole New York?” the guy asked rather disbelievingly. “Or what’s the cannot talk?”

„Well, that’s awkward,” Newt commented stiffly. The smoke tasted even more bitter somehow and he wondered if there was an app to measure the bad luck gathering around him, because this was getting ridiculous. New York had over 20 million of people and he had to meet his one night stand on a bright day like it was a small town with one hall and a church the whole town’s population fitted in on Sunday morning.

“I don’t find it awkward at all,” his one night stand responded and Newt would say he was maybe twenty, give or take two years, but definitely not more. He had really pretty eyes and damn long eyelashes for a guy and somehow the eyes were the most familiar thing Newt remembered about him from yesterday. “Was debating with myself if you’d be in the club tonight as well and suddenly I meet you here, how crazy is that?”

“I’d say insane,” Newt let out. His body probably rooted to the spot. “On a really creepy scale.”

“Harsh.”

“But I will tell my drunk me I met you,” he added. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

“Then let’s go drinking? I’d like to meet him again,” the man – no, the boy – offered, and yeah, Newt somehow remembered that kind of smile too and that honestly scared him, since he was drunk out of his mind and shouldn’t have had such clear memory of these things. Especially with a guy who apparently would like to repeat the performance, no matter they were complete strangers and the awkwardness reached some nasty level.

“Nope,” Newt immediately uttered and focused back on his cigarette. “I’m still having a hangover, I seriously don’t want to raise the alcohol level back up.”

He noticed by the corner of his eye how the brunet’s shoulders dropped slightly, and he didn’t seem to be as tall as Newt perceived him in the club.

“You’re different from yesterday,” came a conclusion from the stranger and Newt barked out a laugh. His whole body was tired and the alcohol was almost gone from his system – it usually made him return to unforgiving reality and the sourness from it simply didn’t let joy to overcome him.

“Naturally, I was drunk,” he reminded the boy with a smirk. He knew he was being watched with maybe a bit too much interest, but he refused to back out and leave, that was so not his style. If anything, he was going to make this guy depart instead. “Let me make it easy for you – not willing to repeat what happened, it shouldn’t have happened and thanks for the lighter. That’s it.”

“Hmm,” the brunet hummed thoughtfully and Newt didn’t like the lack of common sense in him. Normal guy would take a hint and leave him alone, right? But he remained standing close – too close, really, in Newt’s personal zone for sure – and did that looming thing that made Newt itchy. Or it should have made, if he alone had the common sense kicking in as it should have, too.

“Do you have a significant someone?” his one night stand asked peculiarly, his eyes fully focused on Newt’s face.

“What?”

“A lover,” the boy rephrased it while making a vague hand gesture. “Partner.”

“No.”

“So why was it a mistake?” he tilted his head to the side and Newt stared at him with dumbfound expression. For real? He was asking why making out with random stranger while drunk out of their minds was a mistake?

“Mainly because you’re a leech and I look like I fancy S&M plays?” he pointed at his neck with a raising level of annoyance. “Ditched a job interview because of it as well, what would they even _think_ if they had seen me?”

“You have an active sex life?” the brunet offered simply and Newt wanted to smack him over his head. His body somehow relaxed and Newt started to lose hope he would ever leave him alone with this tactic. They shouldn’t have been talking already either.

“Job hunting sucks though,” the boy added rather sadly and Newt inhaled another dose of smoke before reacting anyhow. Sucked was probably a mild word, he _hated_ it. Especially with his set of skills he couldn’t even use. The unavoidable fact he was jobless at the moment ran back to kick him to his stomach with too much gusto.

“No kidding,” he grumbled and let out a long sigh. “I wouldn’t have such a hard time if I could do what I want to do.”

“Well, wouldn’t everybody,” the brunet snorted and leaned against the railing next to Newt, looking somewhere in front of them. The park had been reasonably empty at this time of the day and Newt found it comforting. He didn’t mind people, but crowds were tiresome.

“I don’t mean like… doing whatever you want,” Newt shook his head and quenched the cigarette against the railing. It didn’t help him to ease up at all, which was rather dissatisfying, and only left a bad taste in his mouth. “I just want to work in my own field, but I cannot.”

“Why?” the brunet asked and his voice held curiosity in it. Newt had no idea how the awkward _oh shit, it’s him_ turned into _let me tell you my life story_ moment, but maybe it was the same yesterday night, because normally he would never do that with a random person, drunk or not (telling the life story and making out with them equally).

“New York hates me,” he mumbled unhappily, because it felt like it. Not just the salons, but even a stupid bench in a stupid park hated him, he was sure of it. Like some kind of karmic vengeance.

“The whole New York?”

“Well, at least the stylish part of it,” the blond elaborated and the sole idea of being banned from every salon around made him bark out a weird sounding laugh, even to his ears. “I suck.”

“Can’t say, it was just a hand job so far,” his companion uttered and Newt’s fist was so fast he alone almost didn’t notice it until it collided with firm muscle of the brunet’s arm, eliciting loud _ouch_ from him.

“Perv,” he growled and then hit him again when all he got was laughter. “I can’t believe I made out with a freaking high schooler.”

“Oi, I’m not a high schooler,” the brunet opposed and rubbed the place where the hit landed with a slight frown.

“Well, you definitely have a brain of one,” Newt rolled his eyes. “Hell, you even look like one.”

“Look who’s talking,” came an immediate reply and Newt glared at him. He got told he had a baby face too many times for comfort, so it was nothing new, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “You look elementary, smartass.”

“Yuck, so you have a thing for kids?” Newt reacted briskly and took a step back with a faked expression of horror. “What a pedo~.”

“Very funny,” his one night stand said and made a face. “I just thought you’re cute. For a guy.”

“Cute for a guy,” Newt repeated and his eyebrows climbed up. “Seriously. What’s your deal? I mean, I remember shit, but I kinda recall you saying _guys are not that bad either_? Are you in an experimenting phase or something?”

“So?” the brunet crossed his arms on his chest and his stance somehow widened. Was he defensive about it? “I never tried it with a guy before.”

“Yeah, you sucked at it pretty badly,” Newt delivered mercilessly and the guy’s face scrunched. The fact Newt still came remained unsaid and he was glad his one night stand experience didn’t point it out.

“What’s the stylish part of New York for you?” the brunet asked instead and Newt snorted. Was he trying to avoid the talk? What a kid.

“Changing the subject, huh?” he smirked and when the brunet shrugged like it was no big deal, he followed the gesture too. “Well. The stylish part – like, the hair salons.”

_Why am I even telling him?_

“Hair salons?” his companion repeated in surprised tone. “Wait. Are you a hairdresser or something?”

“Well, I _was_ ,” Newt let out a heavy sigh and returned back to the railing so he could lean against it once more. His stomach was still a little unsteady. “But I guess my career sort of ended a week ago, so.”

“You got sacked?”

“You can say that,” the blond cringed. Maybe _booted out by a fire brigade_ would fit more. He definitely felt like they couldn’t kick him out fast enough – but then again it was rather warranted. “It’s complicated.”

“You got sacked from _all_ hair salons in the whole New York?” the guy asked rather disbelievingly. “Or what’s the _cannot_ talk?”

“Hmm… well, no. But none would hire me,” Newt uttered dryly and his hand itched to grab another cigarette. He wasn’t sure what held him back from getting one, except of the lingering bitterness on his tongue.

“You suck that badly at it?” the brunet asked boldly and Newt kind of wanted to kick his shin for it. He was always pretty talented with hair, the only thing he didn’t like doing were words and pictures on a shaved head. Thankfully only little people ever wanted that from him.

“I excel, gigolo. Don’t underestimate me,” he pointed at him threateningly but earned only a smug smirk. “Told you it’s complicated.”

“Huh,” the boy voiced out. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes roamed over Newt’s frame for a second, and then he nodded. “How about you come with me?”

"That is _not_ going to happen," he took a step back. It was out even before Newt could think about it and apparently it was funny, since the brunet laughed as if Newt told him the balance of his account.

“C’mon, I owe you a job,” he reached for him and Newt took a step back, so he let his arm fall again. Really, _what_?

“ _You_ owe me a job?” he questioned completely dumbfounded and his one night stand took a step closer to him. Newt took another step back and his heart pounded.

“Well, you said you ditched an interview because of all the hickeys, so…” brown eyes lingered on Newt’s naked skin and the blond cleared his throat awkwardly. He almost forgot about those, jesus.

“Not to burst your ego bubble, but it has hardly anything to do with you being in fault,” Newt digressed and the brunet didn’t look like he cared.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything about the fact you need a job, right?” he offered and Newt unhappily nodded. “I maybe have one for you.”

“You.”

“Well, not _me_ specifically, but… a friend.”

“A friend,” Newt uttered coldly. It was like an exclamation mark was trying to tell him it didn’t mean to be so dramatic when yelling orders at him. He could almost hear his mother telling him _don’t go with strangers when they offer you candy_ when he was like… four.

“Yeah, he has a studio just ten minutes from here. Trying to find one more hairdresser for it,” the brunet turned around and pointed vaguely somewhere behind him. Newt didn’t bother to look which way exactly. “And since you’re one and you’re free, you can give it a shot?”

Newt had to run the sentence by him three more times before he comprehended what it meant. His heart fluttered for a moment, almost crazily so with all the buried excitement of holding scissors again and doing what he loved, until he stomped it forcefully down.

_Don’t let your hopes up, idiot._

“None of the salons would hire me,” he repeated for good measure, and maybe it was even more for him than for this guy. What did he even know about the job? Or about Newt? “Means not even your friend would. If there even is one.”

“Wha-of course there is one!” the guy barked as if Newt offended him. “And it’s a studio. Not a salon.”

“Same difference.”

“And how do you know that?” his companion insisted and Newt had to pinch the bridge of his nose and count to ten to calm down. The black and white point of view was getting on his nerves, especially when he was over it many times even with his own friends. All of them told him to _just try a different place, don’t let it bother you_ like they had a crystal ball and could read his future. And fine, maybe it was his fault as well for not telling most of them the full truth, but his nerves were still tested at times like these. He wouldn’t feel that guilty for snapping at this guy though than he would be with his mates.

“Weren’t you the one saying you _excel_?” the boy added almost too smugly, like he was challenging him, and Newt gulped down the rising anger. “What can you lose for trying?”

“You know what,” Newt stood a little straighter and had to pat himself on the shoulder for keeping his voice so even and calm, even though he craved to tell him to stuff it. “You’re on. Let’s bet.”

“Bet?”

“Yeah, bet on your friend,” he elaborated and his heart rabbited in his ribcage with eerie echo. Just what did this guy knew about him from one messy hand job that would probably felt awful when sober? “Once he hears who I am, he will say no.”

“He won’t say no,” the brunet responded stubbornly. Maybe even as if he was slightly offended by such blatant sureness Newt showed, but seriously, being offended was Newt’s right, not his.

“That’s your guess, but I’ve been there, I know what they all say. So let’s bet,” Newt offered an opened palm and his whole body was tenser than a string. It was like being mocked, like the week ago old thing came back to haunt him. Some kid with saviour complex thought he knew his life – the amount of stress on top of that – better than him?

“Alright,” the boy gripped his hand tight and his posture was stiff. “Let’s bet. If he hires you, you owe me a date.”

“Dea-what?” The grip on Newt’s hand was strong and sure and there was an evident resolve in the brown eyes of his companion, and seriously, Newt didn’t understand this guy at all. “A date? Are you nuts?”

“You said a bet and this is what I want if I win,” the brunet retorted easily. “A date.”

“You must be mad.”

“A date!”

“Bloody hell, fine,” Newt groaned and shook his hand firmly. “I want fifty bucks, let’s keep it simple. Jesus.”

“A date is a fairly simple request.”

“Yeah, in a red library I’m pretty sure,” Newt released his hold and glared when the brunet didn’t let go at first. That at least worked. “Weirdo.”

“Thomas,” the brunet said with a shrug and Newt probably made a weird face, since he cleared his throat and added: “My name.”

“I see,” Newt uttered. “Fine. Lead the way, _Tommy_.”

It was apparent _Thomas_ hesitated as if he wanted to ask for Newt’s name in return, but in the end only nodded and started walking. Newt considered it a small, albeit meaningless victory.

***

It was a small place, relatively, adjoining with a café from one side and convenience store from the other. Newt never noticed it here before, but then again, he rarely ever passed this way, so without a proper knowledge of a studio residing here he wouldn’t even stop to look.

It took them roughly 14 minutes to get here from the park and about mid-way it occurred to him he originally didn’t want associate himself with this guy more than he already should – that meant also not going with him anywhere, because it sounded shady as hell and Newt had a notorious bad luck clinging to him like taxes.

Yet here he was, approaching a studio Newt never know it existed and his heart was starting to skipping beats how the dread of being flung away multiplied. Why was he so keen on showing this Thomas _he_ was right? It had nothing to do with him. Being so easily provoked – it wouldn’t happen a week ago. His barriers were pretty fucking low since then.

“There it is,” Thomas pointed at the opened door, probably in case Newt was blind and couldn’t smell the mixtures of colours and sprays from the inside. “Is the bet still on?”

“Yes,” the blond bit out and followed him with a scowl. He had to be prepared. He should maybe even think of some variation of _I told you so_ once the friend would say _yeah, sorry, not you._ Too bad he already downed the smoothie, spurting it on Thomas as a vengeance would be cool.

“Hi Tom,” a female voice flooded Newt’s consciousness immediately and he snapped out of the murder planning just to see a pretty dark haired girl cutting hair of a customer in a swift manner. She had a lovely smile and big, blue eyes, and Thomas greeted her with surprising coldness.

“How’s your man hunt doing?” she added and yeah, now he could hear there was some kind of mockery in her voice as well, so maybe hard feelings ensued between them. “Got yourself a nice hunk already, huh?”

“Where’s Minho?” Thomas ignored her icily and her mouth widened in a shit-eating grin.

“In the back,” she replied with faked sweetness until her eyes fell on Newt. Then on his neck. Then back to Thomas. “Is that-,”

“Thanks, get back to work, vixen.”

Newt decided not to ask and definitely not to look, so he only followed Thomas deeper into the studio while staring at his tense back, until they finally reached an apparent office where a dark-haired man was sitting with a pen in his mouth and papers under his hand. Newt had never met him before, he was sure of it, but somehow he appeared familiar anyway, with his wide shoulders and strong arms that were perfectly visible, since he wore a black tank top. He reminded him of jocks out of his high school for some reason, but this one at least had a really, really nice hair. Newt kind of wanted to touch it.

“Sup,” Thomas greeted him from the entrance and it made the man drop the pen in the midst of papers, and grin.

“Thomas, my man!” he got up from the chair to pat Newt’s companion on the shoulder, and his gestures were sure and dripped familiarity. Long-time friends maybe? Even Thomas lost the tenseness around him, so maybe it was just the girl that posed a threat. “You actually passed the Hydra? So brave.”

“She tried, but her hands were full,” Thomas commented and took a step to the side to reveal Newt standing behind him. As expected, the man’s eyes first skimmed to his neck, then back to his face, and then to Thomas again.

“Are you bragging?” he pointed at Newt while giving Thomas a wondering look.

“Well, no,” Thomas glanced at Newt as well and smirked. “But I may have found you a new addition to your team.”

“To my team?” his friend repeated and Newt braced for it. “He looks like… wait.”

_Here we go._

“Are you Newt by chance?”

“Wait, you know him?” Thomas asked and Newt really wanted to at least shove him for acting so stupidly surprised when he warned him already.

“Well, not personally, but…” his friend gestured without taking his eyes off the blond. “You _are_ Newt, yeah?”

“Yep,” Newt swallowed his pride forcefully. “In all my bad reputation.”

“Yeah, I heard,” the dark-haired man nodded.

“He’s a hairdresser, thought you’d be interested,” Thomas added to it, but evidently couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, since he kept on looking from one to another like at the tennis match. If Newt could, he would take the ball and hit him repeatedly with it.

“To hire him,” the man concluded.

“Well, yeah,” Thomas cleared his throat nervously.

“Seriously,” his friend barked out a small laugh and turned around to his table where he started to rummage through papers. “This is precious.”

Newt forced down the cringe and the swelling of pain that blossomed in his chest and opened his palm instead towards Thomas. He had to praise himself from not shaking, even though inside of him raged an earthquake.

“Fifty bucks, gigolo,” he announced into Thomas’ dumbfounded face. “And be grateful I didn’t pull out _I told you so_ , because I’m close to it.”

“But…” the brunet’s expression fell. “Oi, Minho.”

“Hmm, I can’t find it,” the man didn’t pay him any of his attention and started walking around, looking into all kinds of books he had stored in shelves. “Teresa?!”

“What!” came from the back and Newt thought he recognized the voice of the girl that talked to Thomas first. In another span of seconds, she appeared in between the doors with scissors in her hand and glared at the dark-haired man with impatience.

“I said what,” she repeated, glancing at Newt shortly like she wanted to check it was still him, and _Minho_ , as Thomas called him, didn’t even stop searching when answering her.

“Where do we have the empty forms? I can’t find a single employment contract to use.”

She seemed to be taken back for a moment and then her eyes shone like stars.

“Are we hiring him?!” she squeaked and grabbed Newt by his shoulders like an overexcited cat. “Oh man! Welcome aboard!”

“Wha-,”

“Yeah, hiring him alright,” _Minho_ turned back at them and sent Newt a wide grin. “Dude, you have no idea how long I’ve been searching for you, and you suddenly pop up in my studio. How crazy is that?”

_Déjà vu._

“I’d say insane,” Newt repeated, his head spinning. “On a really impossible scale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!


	3. Anonymous said: "I don't know what to do with that guy, he is like legitimately interested in my life."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So coffee then,” the brunet concluded and his eyes were full of suspicion.   
> “Yes?”  
> “Every morning.”  
> “Well, yes.”  
> “No, I mean, I will bring you coffee to work every morning,” Thomas informed him – and that was it, he basically only stated the fact without Newt having any say in it. Not that having coffee brought to you was a bad thing, so he probably wouldn’t disagree, it was just… resolute. In sort of a nice way.

“The funniest part about this whole shitstorm is how it basically backfired at her.”

“Well, it didn’t completely backfire,” Newt shook his head and his hands still trembled a little. It was slowly but surely dawning on him the longer he stayed in the studio and the more he was getting lost in the smell of peroxide and hair sprays that he was actually _here_ , employed. It had been a week, yes, a week only one would say, but it multiplied by the amount of stress and depression over fear of never being able to do his dream job in this city. It felt like _years_ , like _centuries_ since he last held the thin, precise scissors and wore an apron, and since he could make himself believe that this was where he belonged.

“No?” Minho tilted his head to the side in a curious gesture. Since everybody left and he had been the only one remaining to show Newt the ropes, the studio suddenly seemed bigger and somehow grander.

 As Newt learned during the casual talking, Minho owned the place. He had been doing this job for five years now and opened his own shop just three months ago, along with Teresa, who always supported him. As Newt understood from what they were saying before Teresa dragged Thomas away, their companionship apparently counted many years back, to the high school, but Newt wasn’t entirely sure if their status had been _partners_ or _partners partners_. He could definitely feel familiarity in their interactions, but he saw the same thing with Thomas and he seemingly wasn’t part of this gang – or at least for not that long. He didn’t have the guts to ask if they were lovers or not though, so he decided to keep it at _partners_. At least so far.

“I had been refused already, because my references were shit and barely anybody would actually have me,” Newt admitted and it still weirdly stung. He expected consequences, yes, but definitely not on this scale. “Pretty sure most of the salons would treat me the same way.”

“Well, not me,” Minho reminded him with a snap of his fingers. Newt had a feeling this guy was always easy to deal with, and open to suggestions. Not many people that ran business were of the same attitude and Newt learned to appreciate it. “Don’t bother with bigots. I always thought the posh elitists like them provides the worst service anyway. Even if the scissors are made of gold, their skills would suck the same with ordinary ones.”

“That’s some quality pep talk, mate,” Newt chuckled, but it did help a lot. Of course, Minho wasn’t the first telling him not to take it personally, or worry over stupid people, but spouting advices around was always easy when you weren’t the one going through all the shit involving it. From him it somehow sounded… knowing.

“I only give a quality pep talk,” Minho assured him and then his face scrunched slightly. He leaned against the sink he was standing at and focused on the blond with sudden seriousness. “So tell me, Newt. What exactly did you do for being on the shit list of the Great A?”

“You want short or long version?” Newt propped his chin on his palm and smirked. Alby was probably the only person who he told the whole scene to, and since Minho gave him the same friendly and supportive vibe as his best friend, he thought that maybe, just _maybe_ this guy was safe to relax around.

“Long, naturally,” Minho gestured towards him. “I heard the short one. _Rude to customers_. That tells nothing.”

“She wrote only _rude to customers_?” the blond raised an eyebrow. His previous employer had been a rather small salon in the city centre, but it had high references and belonged to the Great A, as the owner of the Aviago chain had been titling herself. Newt never met her personally, but she was the one who delivered his work sentence and wrote the reference on him. He never knew what exactly was in his file, but he expected a little more than just _rude to customers_.

“And some more nasty remarks,” Minho confirmed his suspicion. “But it was basically all the same, about your attitude towards people. Your attitude seems fine so far, that’s why I’m asking. You’re supposed to have a really potty mouth.”

“I do,” Newt didn’t feel like playing an angel, not in front of this guy. He was pretty much a well of swear words when pissed off, and he wasn’t afraid to use them as a weapon of mass destruction. “But only towards people who deserve it.”

“So?”

“So, there was this nice, sunny day, and my colleague got a customer who showed her a picture of how he wanted to have his hair cut. She did all she could, it looked like the picture and everything, and once she removed the cloth and he looked at himself properly, he started yelling at her it’s the worst thing he ever had on his head thanks to her useless skills,” Newt started with a sigh. He could remember it as if it was yesterday, especially how the girl wept and her hands shook so hard she dropped whatever she grabbed at that point. It was such a scene the whole salon got quiet like a tomb. “I was next to her, washing hair of my own customer and I can tell you it was fucking sick how he yelled. So I stepped in, asked what was his problem with the haircut, and he blabbered something about sides not being enough shaved. I mean, it sounded like he was making excuses, since there was nothing wrong with it.”

“Are you pulling my leg?” Minho stared at him in disbelief and Newt could tell the story did sound pretty farfetched. It was that much sadder it actually happened.

“Yeah, well. Aviago is basically a nest for people like this,” he shrugged and crossed his legs. “The point why I’m telling you all this is that I took the hair clippers, told him I’ll fix it and made a bee line in the middle of his head, right from the bottom to the top. Y’know, like Moses did with the sea.”

“You shitting me.”

“Now I kinda wish I do, but that’s why I got booted,” Newt couldn’t help but laugh at the face Minho pulled, and maybe it shouldn’t have been so funny, telling this to his new boss. It wasn’t like he did it on daily basis though. “That guy was mystery shopping twat. So the salon got a really bad rep from him. Naturally, the only thing they could as a token of apology was to boot me out. Although Great A decided it was not enough, so she put out the warning sign of not letting me do my job anywhere else.”

“Dude.”

“Yeah. I overreacted, I know I did,” Newt admitted, although at the concrete moment he felt like bleaching even his pubes bright pink wouldn’t be punishment enough. He yelled at the poor soul without cause, and even if it was part of his job, it simply made Newt sick, and he usually thought he had a strong stomach for _lots_ of things.

“Yeah, you definitely overreacted. I mean in service business it’s always the customer who is right – which sucks, I admit, but sadly it’s how we make money,” Minho commented with a serious expression, but then his lips stretched into a wide grin. “Still fucking hilarious tho. I mean mystery shopping is a freaking hell and you gotta do your best, but dude, if he did that in here, he would get a spray can in his butthole kicked so far so he would never be able to sit again. So I get you.”

“I just want you to know I’m not generally _rude_ to customers,” Newt cleared his throat and Minho shortly nodded. “But it’s true I have short temper sometimes. I do work on the issue though.”

“Hey, don’t worry, you still have the job,” Minho tapped his fingers against the sink. “I just wanted to know if you didn’t bomb it or something. You know, security measures and you only live once kind of thing.”

“Yeah, but then again you would probably hear more about it than just me being unsatisfactory with words,” Newt pointed out and was rather glad Minho started to laugh.

“Oh, when we are at it,” the dark-haired man glanced at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. “Didn’t Thomas said something about meeting him at five?”

“Ah,” Newt let out. “I don't know what to do with that guy, he is like legitimately interested in my life."

“Thomas tend to do that,” Minho smirked like he knew something that could scare Newt to death, so he didn’t ask. “But he means well.”

“I suppose,” Newt admitted and stood up. The clock showed a little past five and he probably shouldn’t have kept the guy waiting. “Oh well. Gotta go. Owe him for the job after all.”

“Have fun, Moses!”

He wasn’t sure what _fun_ with his one night stand would entail though.

***

It wasn’t like Newt planned to go to the _date_ in the first place when Thomas proposed it in the park. He seriously though he was just trying to rile him up somehow. But he did fulfil his end of the bargain – Minho gave him the job, it was precisely what he had wanted and what was so out of reach, so if Thomas wanted a bloody baby, he would somehow find a way how to give birth to it, just to repay him.

It was still ridiculous though, especially when Thomas couldn’t point it out enough when Newt signed the contract and he officially won the bet.

“You really came!”

Newt counted to ten, forced down the ugly laugh that wanted to spill out of his immature mouth and nodded towards the brunet in agreement.

Thomas chose a club and Newt thought on purpose, but didn’t say anything. He was in a festive mood, like all the worries had lifted from his shoulders, and even though a weird, heavy lead in his stomach remained (and he considered it a good sign, since even though Minho gave him the job and seemed like a good lad, the true inner calm wasn’t so easy to regain), he felt like he could at least get a drink and thank a guy who, despite the initial conflict, actually helped him a lot.

“Didn’t even thank you properly,” Newt took the offered glass from Thomas’ hand and cheered with him. “For the job and all.”

“Well, Minho gave you the job, not me,” Thomas grinned, but Newt could see how his eyes shone happily, and maybe such people still existed? He didn’t know Newt at all, except of happened the night before, so the sudden need to help a stranger had been rather overwhelming. “But you are welcome. I’m glad you actually arrived, thought you’d pass.”

“I thought about it,” Newt admitted and Thomas didn’t look like it wounded him as much. He actually barked out a small laugh and ordered two more shots for them. “But I don’t brush off people who help me, so here you go. Not that date would be my idea of repayment, but whatever floats your boat.”

“Not your idea of repayment?” Thomas repeated and it sounded wolfish. Newt wasn’t sure why it sent shiver down his spine, but it was probably a warning sign. “So maybe-,”

“Pipe it down, gigolo,” he stopped him briskly. “You’re so pushy, can a girl get a breather around you?”

“A good question,” Thomas nodded thoughtfully. “Depends what kind of a girl?”

“How about Teresa?” Newt shot the first safe zone he could get his hands on and it worked, since Thomas’ face went through several changes until it stopped at dissatisfaction. Newt didn’t have time to talk to Teresa more than the initial greetings, since her shift ended pretty soon after all the administration with the contract ended, but Newt could already tell there had been some bad blood between her and Thomas anyway.

“Trust me, she could breathe even in vacuum,” the brunet clicked his tongue unhappily and kicked the shot in him as if he needed it to forget. “But despite the bitchy side of her, she’s a pretty good hairdresser.”

“Yeah, Minho told me,” Newt agreed and his body relaxed again. Diversion tactics – success. “So you’re not from our trade?”

“Definitely not,” Thomas’ face cleared again and Newt made a mental note that Teresa had been a good topic how to calm him down in the future. “I can maybe shave it. That’s my limit.”

“So what do you do?” Newt downed his shot as well and Thomas immediately ordered another drink. This time at least something milder than what could knock him out of his socks and Newt was grateful. He definitely didn’t want to repeat yesterday night, especially not in Thomas’ presence, if he didn’t want to have any more hickeys.

“You noticed the café next to Minho’s studio?” Thomas offered and Newt nodded. He vaguely remembered the convenience shop as well, closely adjoining to it. “Well, that’s where I work.”

“What, a barista? You?” he smirked and Thomas did the same.

“Nah, it’s not Starbucks or anything. Just a regular café. And I’m just a waiter,” the brunet shrugged and at that point Newt could probably imagine him wearing those nicely fitting clothes waiters usually wear. “It’s a part time job.”

“Fun?”

“I don’t mind it. You fancy coffee?”

“Fancy?” Newt barked out a laugh and patted him on his shoulder. “Mate, I can’t even function without coffee in the morning. My blood pressure is so low they’d say I’m dead when I wake up. If you want me out of the bed, you gotta take a crane.”

“That sounds a little bothersome?” Thomas blinked in surprise and Newt realized they didn’t know each other that well so he would understand Newt’s bad humour.

“Nah, just a long process,” he assured him. “I don’t faint anymore if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Faint?!”

_Oh boy._

“It was a joke, Tommy,” he gave up. Sure, the low blood pressure struggle was real, but it used to be worse. Coffee usually sprung him up with 80 % success rate. He didn’t plan to tell this guy though, he looked like he was ready to call an ambulance.

“So coffee then,” the brunet concluded and his eyes were full of suspicion.

“Yes?”

“Every morning.”

“Well, yes.”

“No, I mean, I will bring you coffee to work every morning,” Thomas informed him – and that was it, he basically only stated the fact without Newt having any say in it. Not that having coffee brought to you was a bad thing, so he probably wouldn’t disagree, it was just… resolute. In sort of a nice way.

“Ah,” he let out. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Deal then.”

Newt did wonder why the hell was he taking liking to this guy over coffee, but he drowned it in alcohol soon after and forgot about it.

***

Newt didn’t know _how_ or even _when_ , but after several more drinks later and few more conversations heavier he was biting his hand to keep quiet when he had Thomas between his legs, bobbing his head up and down, and his body trembled like there had been an earthquake and he was in its centre.

It was sloppy and probably kind of bad too, but Newt’s brain didn’t care, and neither did his body, and all he could do was to clutch the brown hair in his hands and pull when he got really close. He had no idea why, but when he heard a rough voice of Thomas’ in his ear whispering _is it good_ , he could only agree while repeating Thomas’ name as he came.

Somehow he remember Thomas’ smug smile as clearly as if it got burned into his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> A little bit of chatty side of things :D Anyway, go go Moses!


	4. Anonymous said: "Are you really this nice or are you just trying to get in my pants?" "Both?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you my mother?”  
> “Are you becoming an alcoholic?”  
> “No,” Newt sat heavily next to him and Alby didn’t look like he wanted to cheer him up. He kind of expected him to have a slipper in his hand to beat him with it. “I had to drink. As a celebration.”

“Somehow you look even worse than yesterday, you okay?”

In retrospect Newt had to admit the scream he let out didn’t sound manly at all, but if anybody asked, he would deny that in a blink of an eye. He was just glad Alby remained unimpressed by the reaction and only stared at him with raised eyebrows in expectation, looking as pristine as ever, if not slightly more, standing in the middle of the living room.

“Don’t do this to me!” the blond barked out, his heart not wanting to calm down no matter how deep he was trying to breathe. Maybe a heart-attack was at the door now, banging on his ribcage. Not to mention he almost spilled his drink and he wouldn’t be happy about it. “I have fragile heart, jesus.”

“Stones are not fragile, you know,” Alby shot back unmercifully and Newt was pretty sure the boulder inside of him cracked a little at it.

“That hurts, bro.”

“Sorry, bro,” Alby shrugged and looked around, apparently searching for a clean spot to sit on. Newt had to admit most of the surfaces had been covered by his clothes (and fine, yes, even dirty ones), so in the end he stomped to the sofa and started cleaning it until Alby looked satisfied enough and sat down. His evident need to chill also meant he had no work today and Newt was a little sad, since he had to go to the studio at 12 and that meant only an hour remained.

“How can you even live in this?” Alby clicked his tongue at another pile of clothes Newt just created by throwing everything he gathered on the sofa there. “It’s a dump.”

“Sorry for not having a maid to clean it for me,” Newt uttered dryly and if it could take a physical form, Alby would have a huge neon billboard stabbed in his head and it would say MAID in shiny, bright pink letters.  

“Do you want me to send her to you as well?” Alby shook the billboard away faster than Newt expected, and only he only sneered and grabbed the pile to carry it to the bathroom. Maybe he really needed somebody to do the housework, sometimes it was difficult to even find clean underwear in the midst of _everything_.

“Nay! Keep your filthy maid,” he bawled from the washing machine while pushing all the clothes inside of it and then angrily slammed it shut. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Alby’s voice delivered smoothly and Newt wanted to kick his shin. Apart from being a little chaotic with clothes, he actually presented a decent human being. Although today he woke up with a headache, nasty taste in his mouth and a suspicion he probably turned into a zombie overnight, not to mention having a hunch he did something he shouldn’t have. It took him another half an hour to get out of the bed, and then approximately fifteen minutes until he realized when he was washing his face that his drunk self decided it was a brilliant idea to make out with Thomas again and be happy about it. Because somehow he recalled the excitement of being sucked off by this guy, even though Thomas was apparently straight, or at least he started with that on his shirt, so the intimate side couldn’t possibly feel as good as it did. And Newt always though _god, how messy_ or _jesus, it feels like he never held a dick before_ or _there is no technique whatsoever_ , but despite that he enjoyed it a bit too much and never left unsatisfied.

Which was probably what should have scared him about it. Either he was easy as hell or Thomas somehow, despite not being experienced, held a certain talent. He didn’t know which one was worse.

“Have you been drinking again?” Alby welcomed him with a weird look when Newt emerged from the bathroom with rumbling of the washing machine in the background. In a span of _minutes_ Alby managed to clean up the coffee table and Newt was afraid to leave him alone again, since there was a high probability he threw all the things lying there out of the window.

“Are you my mother?”

“Are you becoming an alcoholic?”

“No,” Newt sat heavily next to him and Alby didn’t look like he wanted to cheer him up. He kind of expected him to have a slipper in his hand to beat him with it. “I had to drink. As a celebration.”

“Celebration?” his friend repeated and his face cleared at least. “You got a job?”

“You know me so well,” Newt cooed and tackled him with a hug, earning a soft _oof_ and a hair ruffle as a revenge.

“Of course I know you well, you’re like the like a manual of how to use a plushie,” Alby commented under him and pushed, so he managed to get them back to a sitting position at least.

“Mean,” the blond grumbled, still holding tight.

“So what kind of job?”

“My dream job,” Newt grinned into Alby’s shirt. “In a studio. With super chill boss. I’m in heaven.”

“Wait, you serious?” There was an evident excitement in Alby’s voice now and it made Newt even happier. “A hairdresser job?”

“Ye,” he agreed excitedly. “Which is actually hilarious, because remember my slut night?”

“Well, your neck remembers it better.” Newt felt the touch on his skin right under his hair and chuckled. The bite Thomas left there didn’t hurt anymore, but Newt was still hyperaware of it.

“Yeah, but… I met the guy again, yesterday. In a park,” he mumbled and Alby shifted a little, so Newt hugged him tighter. “For some reason we chatted, since my common sense is not working lately. And he was like – you don’t have a job? And you’re a hairdresser? My friend owns a studio and he needs one more addition to his team, ayyyy.”

“Did he do the ayyy in the end?”

“No, but he should have,” Newt offered and shuffled so he could prop his chin on Alby’s shoulder. “The point is, his friend, Minho, gave me the job despite knowing it’s me and what I’ve done. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Well, it was actually rather sad.”

“Fuck you, it was hilarious,” Newt nudged him and Alby patted his back in return. “So I was happy, okay? And Tommy helped me to get the job, so I went drinking with him as a returning gift.”

“Tommy?” Alby asked incredulously and Newt cringed. The pet name was a bad choice for sure.

“The one night stand guy,” he elaborated hesitantly and braced himself. Alby hummed first, then shuffled again, and then his hand sneaked around Newt’s shoulder to squeeze him a bit too strongly.

“Two nights stand guy now?” he inquired sweetly and Newt groaned.

“You just _had to_ ask…”

“Newt, you damn slut,” the hug was gone and Alby was pushing him away so he could give him the Stinky EyeTM. Newt expected it, he really did, but the guilt still hit him square in the face. “Again?!”

“Drunk me loves him,” he tried to wriggle his way out of it, but judging from Alby’s tightly pressed lips together and narrowed eyes the success rate equalled zero. “I don’t know what to tell you, for real. One moment we drink shots, other moment he’s giving me a blowjob-,”

“Don’t tell me details,” Alby stopped him with a wheeze. “I mean one is an incident and they say two’s a coincidence, but-.”

“There won’t be the third time, I swear,” Newt assured him, because _no way in the hell_ would he fall for Thomas’ not-so-clever traps for the third time. He got his _date_ and that’s it, Newt didn’t owe him anything anymore.

Alby didn’t look like he believed him though, especially since his scowl had been deepening every second, probably as fast as grandmothers’ when their grandchild told them they hadn’t eaten yet.

“I swear, Alby, my man,” he squeezed Alby’s hands quickly. “I swear.”

“Haul your ass to work. Clear that head of yours,” his friend kept the pissy attitude and Newt thought tough love worked on him the best after all.

***

“Hey Newtie,” Teresa greeted him the moment he entered the studio, and she looked as bright as always. Her hair was braided back and her lips were red like she just drank blood, and he really liked that look on her.

Beside her and the woman whose hair she was working on there were two more girls sitting and waiting and Newt apparently was just in time to get one of them as his own, which made his hands shiver with delight.

“Hey,” he smiled at Teresa contently and somehow it was really difficult to believe he was actually going to work here from today, no matter that he changed into working clothes and got his own spot and a big eyed girl as his first customer.

_Waking up now would suck though._

Teresa had been a chatterbox and he decided he liked her a lot – not only her voice was pleasant to listen to, but she was also funny and smart and seemed like she took as her personal goal to make Newt feel welcomed to the point of pampering him.

The whole _this gotta be a dream or what the hell is this amazing setup_ kind of thing got crowned when Newt had been mixing colours for the next customer at the counter and a cup of coffee came into his view like a sign from heaven descending instead of an angel.

“I forgot to ask you about your shifts, so instead of a morning coffee you get an afternoon one,” Thomas’ voice followed right after and Newt’s stomach made a double flip for some reason, almost leaving his body completely. “Hope it still helps.”

“Coffee always helps,” Newt squeezed out of himself and took the cup gratefully. He focused at the black liquid instead of Thomas as an excuse why not to look at him, but somehow it didn’t really help, since Thomas was in his personal space anyway. His cologne smelled really nice, like the first night they met in the club, and Newt forced down the memories that began to surface, tightly connected to the fragrance. “I didn’t think you were serious about bringing it to me though.”

“Of course I was,” Thomas responded and Newt could _hear_ the smile in his voice. “Good?”

“Perfect,” he bubbled into the liquid and he wasn’t even lying. He took his coffee black, always, and strong so the caffeine could actually raise up his blood pressure, and Thomas somehow nailed both of those conditions like he was making coffee for him every day. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“Can you stop cornering him there, you horny rabbit?” flew over their heads with Teresa’s voice and Newt almost spilled the coffee how he snorted. But at least it made Thomas step away a bit and turn towards her, as Newt quickly checked by glancing up at him and meeting only his wide back in a white shirt and black vest.

 _Shit, it really_ does _suit him. Stupid fancy waiter clothes._

“Who are you calling a rabbit, you minx?” Thomas barked at her and the women in the studio started to giggle. Newt found himself doing the same, but at least it took some of his nervousness away.

“Usually a guy who only thinks of sex,” she answered in meantime and Newt rather put down the cup and finished the mixture to avoid Thomas’ slowly turning gaze towards him again. He couldn’t tell, he didn’t know Thomas at all, but it kind of fitted – the sex notion, that is. He met him for three times and twice of it ended up with them going at it, so where was the lie?

Although it probably made Newt a similar case.

“I just got him coffee, that’s usually doesn’t equal sex, you know,” Thomas uttered dryly towards her and when Newt walked back to his chair where a young girl with long, brown hair was sitting, he followed him like a puppy.

“With you even saying hello equals sex,” Teresa shot back at him unmercifully and a series of _ooohs_ filled the studio. Newt couldn’t help but laugh.

“You see how mean she is to me?” this time Thomas aimed his words back at the blond and Newt finally looked him in the eye – probably because it felt safer when there was a chair with young girl between them.

“I see that, I do,” he agreed with a chuckle and Teresa made a noise somewhere behind them. “But you probably gave her a reason for it, so I can’t judge if it’s warranted or not.”

“You basically just said it is,” Thomas pouted, and it was so childish Newt had to bite his tongue to keep the laughter inside.

“I might have.”

“He so did,” Teresa interjected. “Because he likes me, you know.”

“I do like her,” he admitted when Thomas stared at him with suspicion in his eyes. “She’s pretty.”

“I’m also pretty,” the brunet pointed out with a serious expression and heard Teresa saying _you wish_ in background.

“You’re different kind of pretty,” Newt sent him an amused look from colouring and the girl on the chair cleared her throat before shyly saying: “I think he is pretty.”

“See,” Thomas took it for granted, naturally, and Newt hummed. “So when does your shift end?”

“Something past six,” he answered without thinking and then realized Thomas definitely didn’t ask just to be polite. Surely he didn’t think they would play the dating game from now on? Or worse – sex friends game on top of everything?

“Cool, I will wait for you at half past seven then?” the brunet confirmed the worry without missing a beat and Newt could see how the girl between them watched them with wide eyes full of curiosity.

_Crap._

“Well, nobody is stopping you, but I’m busy tonight,” Newt returned, stubbornly focusing at his work. “My hands are tied.”

_Or Alby would probably kill me._

“Shame.”

“Such is life,” Newt glanced at him with a smirk, just to spot Thomas observing his hands carefully. It was an intense look, like he was trying to analyse it somehow, and Newt had to admit it somehow boosted his ego, although he wasn’t sure why. “See something you like?”

“When I look at you? Naturally,” Thomas’ gaze jumped back to Newt’s face and his eyes burned.

“Ugh, lame,” Teresa groaned behind them and Thomas let out a sigh, seemingly calming himself down from reacting to her. Newt found it funny. “Newt, don’t buy it.”

“I’m not so cheap,” he assured her with a chuckle and considered Thomas rather rude when the first thing where he looked was Newt’s neck still marked like a prostitute. _Fine,_ he was easy when it came to Thomas, but that was definitely only because he caught him drunk both times (and the second time he didn’t leave hickeys, thankfully).

“I will wait for you at half past seven,” the brunet repeated and glanced at his watch. “Gotta go, still at work.”

“I told you I’m busy tonight,” Newt reminded him pointedly and Thomas sent him a grin.

“You told me nobody is stopping me from waiting for you,” he replied happily and before Newt could tell him to stuff it, he was gone.

“Ugh,” Teresa groaned again. “Suddenly I feel like barfing.”

Newt decided to keep quiet. It was enough his customer was still staring at him in the mirror like she was expecting him to run after Thomas and kiss him senseless while proposing marriage.

***

“You serious?”

If Newt wanted to be completely honest, he expected Thomas to wait for him there, but only in the worse scenario, because surely Thomas wouldn’t be that type dwell on such thing, right? If there wasn’t anything for him to gain, why would he bother? Yet here he was, standing at the entrance to the studio with a sheepish smile, in jeans and black shirt and messed up hair Newt wanted to get his hands on.

_It felt nice yesterday, thank you pervy thoughts of mine of reminding me this guy had my dick in his mouth._

“A token of reconciliation,” Thomas handed Newt a paper cup with rich smelling coffee and Newt wanted to refuse the bribery, but the need of caffeine was stronger than him, so he took it. He usually drank about five cups a day, so having his third now seemed like filling up the deficit.

“Are you really this nice or are you just trying to get in my pants?” he stared at Thomas with narrowed eyes and seemingly the accusation didn’t bother Thomas at all, since he just laughed and then gave him a shrug.

“Both?” he offered easily and Newt was actually a little disappointed Teresa already left for today, since he would love to hear her opinion on this scene. It was enough she told him to ignore Thomas for the good measure in the future, since he was _a vulture_ , as she said. _Smelling weakness and diving for it._

Not that Newt wanted to show him any, as far as his sober self was concerned.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” he concluded while sipping the hot brew carefully. It was good, like the previous one. “But nothing really changed. I don’t have time today.”

“Yeah, I know, just wanted to see you,” Thomas responded with a smile and Newt almost choked on the next sip. “ _See_ you. Not kill.”

“Went down the wrong pipe,” the blond wheezed. “Bloody hell.”

“You’re pretty weak to compliments, aren’t you,” Thomas commented in amusement and Newt put the lit back on the cup to keep himself from choking again in Thomas’ presence. Apparently it was not safe enough.

“No, I am not,” he uttered defensively and it only made Thomas to grin wider.

“You seem to be,” he pointed out. “At least from me.”

“That’s cuz your compliments suck,” Newt opposed childishly. “And you just caught me off guard.”

“Huh, gotta step up my game then,” the brunet concluded like it was super normal to inform him about the tactics and Newt wanted to throw the coffee at him. Why was he so interested in Newt’s life anyway? Was it sex? Was he curious about two guys doing it? Why Newt, for fuck’s sake? Straights and _experimenting_ were always short way to hell, he knew that.

“Yeah, for somebody who’s willing to listen,” he announced with a steeled goal of _not_ giving in. “Thanks for the coffee. Gotta go now.”

“Ouch, harsh,” Thomas returned and Newt hated himself for feeling bad about it. He didn’t even know this guy properly, why should he have cared about him? All they did was some make outs and a couple of talks, Newt was _not_ that bloody easy. Definitely not for a straight guy.

“You’ll live,” he forced out with a disturbing amount of self-denial and started walking. “Laterz.”

“Tomorrow,” Thomas called after him and Newt despised the excited jolt that made him glance back just to get a smile and a small wave from the guy.

_This is just a big fucking NOPE._

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> Newt I-Don't-Know-What-To-Do-With-My-Brain.


	5. Anonymous said: "You can't just say something like that and then leave!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Unlike you I don’t want to fuck him, you know,” she hissed back at the brunet and Newt almost choked on his drink. Minho barked out a laugh and patted Thomas on the back and when a waiter passed them, he ordered three shots for the occasion.  
> “Well, that’s your loss,” Thomas shot back and Newt was glad he already put down the glass, or this would probably drown him. Really, what was this talk? Why was he even a part of it?  
> “Newt,” Teresa turned back to the blond and her eyes burned. “Whatever he tries on you, don’t fall for it. He will play it nice for two months and then get bored and break up with you.”

Newt always admired people who could set up a goal and stick to it even against all odds. He rarely ever had something meaningful in mind, when he didn’t count his wish to become a hairdresser, which was probably the only thing he really pursued in his life. When he decided he wanted to learn how to skate, it took about a week of trying (two times in a rink) and he gave up. Then there was an attempt to learn Spanish, but he ended up at swear words and alphabet and that was it. He counted it towards a lack of motivation, like the spur of moment he had wasn’t strong enough power to keep him at it.

So yeah. Relentless people wanting to reach their goal despite the obstacles were pretty much awesome in Newt’s eyes.

Except of Thomas.

Newt didn’t know _how_ he deserved to be treated this way, but the brown-haired waiter slash gigolo slash experimenting straight guy was onto him like a hunt dog and Newt had no idea how to stop him. And he tried all kinds of approaches – being rude (Thomas called him harsh several times, but shook it off like it was nothing), then being dismissive (“Bad mood today? Have a cup.”), then straightforwardly telling him that if he had any expectations out of bothering him, it was fruitless (“It’s more for me, seeing you makes my day better.” _Shit shit shit!_ ). Nothing worked. When Thomas had a shift at the café, he _always_ stopped by with a cup for Newt, and later even with a small cake or a bagel, and no matter how hard Newt was trying to stay adamant in his resolution of not encouraging him, they ended up chatting anyway.

Well, at least he always dodged the possibility of drinking with him. Not that Thomas forced the issue, but there were attempts to _go out_ , although not always it had been a club or a place where he could get him drunk.

_It’s not like it’s his aim anyway, I guess. Or at least I hope it’s not like some kind of kink to have sex with a drunken person._

It was similar today, except of Thomas not being at work at all, but sitting in the studio anyway, in civil clothes and ruffled hair, and it was driving Newt crazy (his presence _and_ his hair both). He was just glad Minho had been present today and most of Thomas’ attention went towards him. His apparent will to stay here for _hours_ was probably because Teresa had a day off so Thomas didn’t feel bad for being here with her constant attacking lines. Newt wanted to ask about the beef they had with each other, but never found the right opportunity.

Despite not working, Newt still got coffee from Thomas when he arrived and even though he considered it a type of bribery, he took it and thanked him anyway.

“As long as Teresa will keep her mouth shut, I’m all in to go.” It woke Newt up from his own thought process just to realize Minho had been looking at him right now with a grin on his face. Newt already learned it meant to be wary, especially when it lit up his eyes as well.

“What,” he asked while stopping sipping the coffee, just in case Minho would say something that could make him spit it out.

“Just realized we never actually celebrated that you work here,” his boss crossed his arms on his chest and Newt mentally cursed. That was what Thomas meant by _I’m all in to go_? Drinking? With him? Again?

“No biggie,” he responded stiffly. “I already _celebrated_ with Thomas.”

“That doesn’t count,” Minho pointed out and Newt was glad he didn’t ask for details. “It’s a tradition! I need to see everybody I employ drunk first so I know them inside out.”

“A tradition,” Newt repeated doubtfully. “You just made that up. I’m the only one you employed.”

“I’ve seen Teresa drunk,” Minho returned and Newt put the cup down on the table.

“You know Teresa _forever_ ,” he countered. “Pretty sure you’ve seen her drunk for hundreds of times.”

“I might have.”

“So it doesn’t count,” Newt concluded. Not to mention going drinking could end up as it always did when Thomas had been around. Newt had a freaking weak will when it came to his drunk self.

“He doesn’t want to go drink with me,” Thomas spoke up like he was reading Newt’s mind and Minho glanced at the brunet with raised eyebrows. “He gets all cuddly when drunk.”

“Aww, I wanna see,” Minho looked back at the blond and Newt sent Thomas a death glare. He had no idea how close he and Minho had been, but he surely didn’t want his boss to know they already dabbled because Newt drunk self had been slutty like hell and thought Thomas was the best relief he could get. “Teresa is always overly emotional when drunk, it’s no fun.”

“Yeah, she usually ends up weeping,” Thomas agreed with an eye roll. “Gotta love her at the parties.”

“Depends on what’s going on in her personal life at that point,” Minho added in her defence. “Or you know. If she sees something cute when drunk. Like a puppy.”

“She bawls her eyes out.”

“Cute,” Newt commented with a smirk. “At least she is not beating you to the pulp.”

“Nah, she usually attacks verbally,” Minho snorted. “But then again, she knows how, so it hurts more than if she hit you.”

“I can imagine.”

“I lived through it, it’s pretty awful,” Thomas sighed. “Never again.”

“Well, you deserved it,” Minho told him sweetly and when Thomas scoffed, Newt was _almost_ sure he and Teresa must have at least date before or something. It would explain her evident distaste for Thomas’ flirting attempts and the vague advices of _not getting fooled_.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” he held up the cold attitude and Thomas piped _ouch_ before laughing it up. It was a good question of what happened; Newt had to admit he was rather curious what made Teresa so antagonistic towards him. And quite frankly it was also what held Newt so well in line too – of course, his drunk and sober self were different, but Newt couldn’t tell Thomas was not his type, or that he wouldn’t fall for it if there wasn’t any border to stop him, after some time.

Because as much as Newt found Thomas determination bothersome (or maybe not even bothersome, just… surprising?), it still felt kind of good to be wooed like this. Because he was wooed, right? Thomas didn’t bring him coffee and kept on visiting and talking to him despite Newt’s refusals just because he was a good guy. He didn’t do it with Minho, and they were friends. He didn’t do it with Teresa, but again, there had been an apparent bad blood brewing, so Newt didn’t take it into an account.

Not to mention _I just wanted to see you_ was easily interpreted as wooing and Newt couldn’t really think of it otherwise. Sure, being nice to somebody was not an immediate need to start a relationship, rather presenting a decent human behaviour, but… this was different. And fine, Newt wasn’t a beacon of experience when it came to dating per se, but he could tell Thomas wanted something from him, and it wasn’t only his attention when he stopped by.

Although it probably wasn’t even dating.

“Well, fine, you don’t need to drink if that’s what bothers you,” Minho interrupted his thoughts. “But we can go sit somewhere, no?”

“Sure,” Newt shrugged and it was true it didn’t bother him as long as he wouldn’t get drunk with Thomas near. Or maybe with anybody near – he didn’t know how slutty his drunk self had became lately.

“Deal!” his boss concluded happily and Newt only hoped he had at least some time to mentally prepare himself.

***

He had three days. Minho kept on reminding him through the day about not making any plans on the evening and it probably burned into Newt’s mind permanently.

***

“What! I don’t cry when drunk, Newt, don’t believe these two!”

Newt was grateful Teresa stuck to him during the evening – it kept Thomas away like a charm. She already drank a lot and all Newt observed about her behaviour had equalled to her being louder than normally, but no tears appeared.

“I don’t believe them, don’t worry,” he assured her with a chuckle and she hugged him like a teddy bear.

“At least somebody likes me,” she mumbled almost poutily and he could see the glare she sent towards Thomas. The brunet only glared back and sipped his drink, but didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best.

“We all like you, Tesa,” Minho added to it with a wide smile. He drunk probably the least, even with Newt’s resolution to drink as little as he could, so he probably saw everything as the most sober from all of them. “You still make the best lasagne, that’s a huge plus point.”

“Lasagne?” Newt looked at Teresa in wonder and she grinned at him, almost too proudly. _Yeah, definitely drunk already._

“I’ll make some for you,” she promised with a firm nod. “Cuz you deserve the best!”

“Ugh, what a lame pick up line,” Thomas uttered but Newt could see how corners of his mouth twitched in suppressed smile. “I don’t think that would do, Teresa. Gotta try harder.”

Teresa stiffened, Newt could feel it since she was still pressed against him, and he heard her scoff.

“Unlike you I don’t want to fuck him, you know,” she hissed back at the brunet and Newt almost choked on his drink. Minho barked out a laugh and patted Thomas on the back and when a waiter passed them, he ordered three shots for the occasion.

“Well, that’s your loss,” Thomas shot back and Newt was glad he already put down the glass, or this would probably drown him. Really, what was this talk? Why was he even a part of it?

“Newt,” Teresa turned back to the blond and her eyes burned. “Whatever he tries on you, don’t fall for it. He will play it nice for two months and then get bored and break up with you.”

“Uhh...”

“Geez, just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean I do it-,”

“You always do it!” she snapped at Thomas without waiting for his explanation and her grip on Newt’s arm grew stronger. He could see people at other tables quieted down and stared at them in a silent question. “You are all nice and caring, and once the novelty wears off and you don’t have anything to conquer, you stop and leave. Always!”

Newt gulped down heavily and morbid curiosity made him look at Thomas even though he didn’t want to, just to meet his serious stare back. His insides were churning and it was an ugly feeling of something not going right, something he didn’t want to happen just proceeding, and when he opened his mouth to say something – although quite frankly he wasn’t sure what – the waiter arrived to put shots before them with a lovely smile and quick depart again.

“Well, I didn’t know you keep tabs on me,” Thomas finally spoke. “Or my love life.”

“You brag about it, you immense slut,” she growled at him and suddenly let go of Newt’s arm, just she could lean over the table, closer to the brunet. Her body trembled and Newt felt his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage to the point of feeling physically sick. “If you had at least a little common sense you’d know how to shut up, but you have _none_.”

“Oi, Tesa,” Minho called her with worried undertone and she glared at him as well.

“And you!” she pointed at Minho threateningly. “You even support him in that! He keeps on hurting people and you _always_ take his side!”

“Tesa-,”

“Always! I came in terms you actually don’t care shit that he hurt me too, but do you want him to hurt Newt as well?!” her voice rang through the bar like a bell and Minho’s face turned sour very, very fast. “Fuck you. Fuck both of you.”

“Teresa, for fuck’s sake,” Thomas let out a sigh and Newt decided he didn’t want this to continue anymore, so he stood up, which cut Thomas’ speech off, and put his hand on Teresa’s trembling back.

“Let’s get you home, gal,” he told her softly and when she silently nodded, he noticed tears streaming down her face like two rivers. It made him feel like shit, especially when she started walking towards the exit and looked like somebody torn her heart apart.

“You can't just say something like that and then leave!” Minho stood up as well, but when Newt looked at him with a frown, he backed down again. There was an evident worry in his eyes, Newt wasn’t blind, but Teresa definitely didn’t need him demanding explanation. All she should have been doing involved sleep and some Tylenol in the morning.

“I’ll drive you,” Thomas offered while standing up as well, but Newt shook his head and pulled out his wallet to toss money on the table.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbled. “I don’t think you want to kill us, do you?”

“Well, then I can just accompany you, in case she would-,”

“No,” the blond stopped him resolutely and there was an evident dejection in Thomas’ face. Newt decided it was for the best. “Sorry.”

They didn’t try to stop him anymore and when he found Teresa sitting on the stairs in front of the bar, he helped her up and called a taxi.

She fell asleep on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!


	6. Anonymous said: "No, you don't /understand/."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact Alby’s expression changed into some sort of reconciliation while he was staring somewhere behind Newt should have been indication enough, but Newt still looked over there to realize Teresa had woken up and slinked out of the bedroom in her underwear (Wait, what? How? She was fully clothed when I left her there!) and crazy hair.  
> “Um,” he voiced out and Alby hummed, but Teresa apparently didn’t pay them any mind, since she disappeared in the bathroom without a word. “Okay. That happened.”  
> “Sure did.”

Newt didn’t really understand _why_ he woke up in his living room on the sofa for solid 5 minutes after opening his eyes. There was no terrible hangover pounding on his temples, no weird taste of liquor lingering on his tongue and no blank spaces between his memories, when he tried to recall the previous night.

_Oh yeah. Teresa._

He wobbled to the bathroom first, took a shower to make himself at least a little presentable and then peeked into his bedroom to realize Teresa had been still sleeping like dead and probably in the same position he left her in as well. She dropped like lead and probably didn’t even realize where she had been and why, so he mentally prepared himself for questions and maybe some sort of confusion as well.

When he got her out of the club, she had been out cold in _minutes_ in the taxi, and so thoroughly Newt simply didn’t success in waking her up. Since it probably looked like he molested her in the car instead of trying to get her back into the land of conscious, he decided to give up and told the taxi driver his own address, then dragged her to his flat and left her fall into his bed with a bucket next to her, just in case.

“Seriously, your alcoholism is showing.”

Newt almost tripped over his own feet when he heard Alby’s voice coming from the living room, and for once was glad he actually didn’t really drink or ended up with another set of hickeys, or Alby would force him to go the therapy.

“I had like… one drink,” he emerged from the kitchen with a frown and rose up the toast he made. Alby knew very well he couldn’t eat when he had a hangover, so hopefully it was enough as a proof of his almost-abstinence.

“One drink,” Alby repeated and looked Newt over like he was checking for something he could call him out for. Newt was pretty sure there was nothing, although against his own pristine presentation it probably made him look sloppy anyway. “That’s why it smells here like in a liquor store?”

“Does it?” Newt sniffled, but didn’t really smell anything. But judging from Alby’s immediate bee line to open the window it probably did. “Sorry, I guess.”

“So was there any more of your sexual escapades as well?” Alby asked without any additional prettiness and Newt almost choked on his breakfast. Sure, Thomas had been present, along with alcohol, but the whole evening went to shit when Teresa decided to play the dirty laundry card and perfectly cut off anything else.

In fact, Newt probably should have been grateful for the knowledge – if it all had been true. Somehow it was hard to believe Thomas could have been such a bad person, but then again pretty faces usually hid something worse underneath, right? Not to mention all he seemed to want from Newt was sex, so maybe that also spoke volumes.

“No sexual escapades,” he refused the claim stubbornly and Alby walked to the couch and stared at it dubiously, especially with the ruffled blanket and a pillow on it. Newt wasn’t sure if he just wanted to clean it up or ask about it, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and scrambled the blanket to the side. “Sorry.”

“You slept on the couch?” the man asked with a raised eyebrow and Newt could almost see the wheels in his head turning. “Am I missing something?”

“Couches are cool,” Newt returned. He wasn’t feeling bad for Teresa staying here or anything, he just didn’t want to explain it, because it would involve mentioning Thomas and Alby didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah?”

“Watched a movie and fell asleep here,” another lie Newt could muster lamely and Alby’s face was like an open book, precisely telling him he sucked at lying. “It’s just-,”

“Oh.”

The fact Alby’s expression changed into some sort of reconciliation while he was staring somewhere _behind_ Newt should have been indication enough, but Newt still looked over there to realize Teresa had woken up and slinked out of the bedroom in her underwear ( _Wait, what? How? She was fully clothed when I left her there!_ ) and crazy hair.

“Um,” he voiced out and Alby hummed, but Teresa apparently didn’t pay them any mind, since she disappeared in the bathroom without a word. “Okay. That happened.”

“Sure did.”

“I can explain,” Newt assured his best friend, but Alby’s eyes were already crinkling happily and Newt wondered if it was because of a barely clothed pretty girl he just saw or because he thought something that didn’t happen just occurred.

“Please do,” he invited the blond with a smile and Newt heard the water running in the bathroom and wondered if Teresa knew where the clean towels were. He definitely didn’t want her to walk around here _naked_.

_Jesus._

“She’s my colleague,” he blurted out.

“Okay,” Alby nodded. “I gather not the one who likes to screw you, since that was a guy.”

“Yeah, and he’s not my colleague,” Newt reminded him. He was pretty sure he told him about Thomas already anyway, maybe even more than he should have. “But. We had been drinking with my boss and her and she got a little wasted, so.”

“She ended up here,” Alby nodded thoughtfully and Newt waited for the punchline. When nothing else came, he made a face.

“Nothing is going on, you know,” he assured him sternly and Alby shrugged.

“I know,” he added to it. “It’s a girl.”

“Yes,” he agreed like it was not obvious enough.

“So it’s fine,” Alby continued calmly. “I know you don’t fancy girls.”

“Yeah, not at all.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, just say it already,” Newt groaned in frustration and Alby patted him on the shoulder with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Nothing to say, my dear boy,” he assured him. “You’re a gentleman. I brought you up right.”

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” Newt rolled his eyes, but at least he lost the tenseness. Alby was right anyway, he never really fancied girls – and he realized that pretty young too. Naturally his parents thought him choosing to be a hairdresser was basically another symptom of being gay, but whatever. He enjoyed the job, he was good at it and if they thought he was running around in pink with Chihuahua in a Channel bag, fine.

The water in the bathroom stopped and several minutes later, during which Alby looked like Christmas came early and Newt decided to finish his breakfast to occupy himself so he didn’t need to explain anything anymore, Teresa emerged from the bathroom again with towel around her body and another one on her head.

“Morning,” she greeted them both with a smile and if Newt didn’t personally carry her home, he wouldn’t believe she was drunk out of her mind. Or maybe she just held her liquor really badly, who knew. Not to mention she didn’t look even slightly confused about her whereabouts or who the hell was the other guy who stared at her like she was a gift from heaven.

“Good morning,” Alby chirped back and Newt kind of wanted to disappear. “How unusual to see Newt in such delightful company.”

_Yep._

“Thanks, mate,” Newt grumbled at him and Teresa smiled even brighter. If this was how hangover was supposed to look like, Newt was doing it wrong all his life.

***

“You eat tacos?”

“Sure,” Teresa answered happily when nestled on the couch and it was weird for how domestic and familiar it felt. Even Alby appeared to be delighted when he could talk to the girl and probably even stayed longer than he initially wanted so he could get some info out of her (and in the end left after three hours). It didn’t feel intrusive or annoying and Newt realized he actually welcomed her presence after the rumble yesterday.

Even now, when she was sitting on the couch in his shirt it was like meeting up with a family member he didn’t see for a long time, he mused while ordering the take-out and looking at her from the kitchen.

Maybe that was also why yesterday night bothered him so much. Thomas had always been a mystery to him, no matter how often he stopped by in the studio Newt simply couldn’t point a finger on what he wanted or why was he so keen on it. So the sudden knowledge of him probably being rather unpleasant person in a long run made Newt shift a lot, especially if it involved hurting Teresa.

And he didn’t want to hurt her. And he didn’t want anybody to hurt her either.

“I can almost hear how you’re trying to analyse me,” she suddenly spoke up and turned towards him on the couch. Her black hair was falling freely down her shoulders and back and she looked adorable even without being all dressed up. Sometimes Newt really regretted girls were not cutting it for him, that for sure.

“Yeah?” he watched her back, not moving an inch from the kitchen counter.

“Go on,” she said calmly. “Ask me.”

“I don’t want to be nosy,” he offered and she smiled. He wanted to know but at the same time he did not. There was a saying about skeletons and wardrobes, wasn’t there?

“You’re a nice guy,” she commented and Newt wasn’t sure what it meant. He never considered himself _a nice guy_. Sure, he wasn’t a bitch either, but he had his dark moments and sometimes lashed out unpredictably as well. “I knew you would be. I’m glad Minho hired you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad he hired me as well,” he agreed because it was the truth and he didn’t want to ruin the chance that was given to him.

“He’s a nice guy as well,” she told him softly. “But different. He cares about people to a certain degree but never pay enough attention, if you know what I mean. Lots of friends but nobody too close to him.”

“I thought you’re the close friend,” he opposed lightly and her face saddened for a second before the careful mask snapped back in place.

“I’m… probably, a closer friend, somehow,” she admitted after a moment. “And we do support each other. But sometimes… it’s simply not enough.”

“Like with Thomas,” he breached the topic carefully and she nodded.

“Thomas is not a bad guy, you know,” she started again in a lower voice. “In overall. He’s just very fleeting with everything he does. Work, hobbies, people. He likes it for a while, he’s enthusiastic and sincere. Then he gets bored and leaves it.”

“Sounds troublesome,” he piped and the new knowledge made him somehow unhappy. Sure, Newt was never big on keeping too many hobbies either and his job was the only thing he kept on loving during the years, but he never got bored of people if they weren’t bad influence that poisoned his life.

“We dated for two months,” she looked back at the TV for a second, then again at Newt. “I thought I found a great guy when we started talking and then going out. He was everything I wanted him to be – romantic, tentative, smart. He remembered the dates and kept on surprising me with small, nice things that made my day better.”

 _The coffee,_ Newt thought bitterly. It was such a lovely addition to his day he never even thought it was part of a careful plan Thomas could have – until now.

“We dated, it was nice. We never quarrelled, not even once,” she continued quietly and Newt kind of wanted to sit beside her and offer some comfort, but at the same time it didn’t feel right. “And then suddenly he broke up with me.”

“Eh?”

“Came to the studio, looked bummed out and told me we should break up,” she elaborated and Newt felt a lump forming in his throat. For real? Was this how Thomas always acted? With everybody? “I didn’t understand what happened – I mean, we were fine. Although maybe I was just thinking that alone, since it was true the past two weeks we didn’t see each other much. But I worked a lot and he was busy too, so I never thought it was an issue. Well, until he made it one.”

“He broke up with you because you didn’t see each other that much anymore?” he stared at her in disbelief and she shook her head.

“We broke up because he didn’t feel it anymore. That was why we had seen each other so little over that time,” she responded with a small sigh. “I guess I should have known, he was there every day otherwise. And suddenly he was still busy and… Well. We fell into a rhythm. For him it was routine. And routines are boring.”

“Was he already seeing somebody else…?”

“No,” she refused strictly. “Not really his style, I believe. He just wanted to end it.”

Newt felt a weird pang in his chest and it was bizarre, since he didn’t fall for the guy, nor they dated. Sure, he brought him coffee and visited when he could, but Newt never gave him any indication… except when he was drunk. That surely couldn’t be counted as dating.

“I’m telling you because he’s the same with you now,” Teresa told him in a serious voice. “And because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Newt watched her back and the words simply didn’t come. He had no retort at all – of course her caring about Newt not getting hurt was all sweet, but he wasn’t even falling for the guy, let alone thinking of doing so. Sure, he liked the attention, but who did not?

“So that’s why you always acted angry around him,” he finally let out, recalling all those naggy remarks she had in his presence, and his annoyed grunts as a reply. He knew there had to be something between them, but probably not as dramatic.

Or maybe it was only Teresa who perceived it this way and Thomas had his own version. Maybe there was more to it? She thought he got bored of the relationship and maybe it was more than that?

_Wait, why do I defend him?_

“Yep,” her voice sounded more cheerful again. “I mean… it’s not like I was in love or anything. I mean, I was feeling nice and I’d definitely fall for him if it kept up longer, but I think it was more of… an attraction.”

“Oh,” he hesitated. “So you’re basically just… angry? That he broke up with you. Rather than literally hurt.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she shook her head and looked a little exasperated. “I did like him, of course. I mean who wouldn’t like such a guy? Just the ending… If there was somebody else who really fell in love with him, and then went through such heartbreak, it’s just so vile. Just because he got bored.”

“I see,” he commented lamely.

_I wonder what’s Thomas’ side of the story?_

“Wanted you to know,” she rested her chin against the backrest of the couch, looking at him with her big, blue eyes. “In case you were the same hopeless case as me. Enjoying attention. Falling for a pretty face.”

“I like the coffee,” he admitted because she wasn’t blind, she had to see it when Thomas stopped by. “But I don’t plan on dating him. Or anybody on that matter.”

“Why anybody?” she blinked in surprise and Newt let out a small laugh, grateful for the change of topic.

“Girl, my body is a temple, I’m bloody sacred.”

When she laughed, he was glad, especially since she didn’t know how Thomas already breached the holy chastity.

He hoped she would never find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!


	7. Anonymous said: "Are you implying some sort of conspiracy?" Thomas winked at Newt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You definitely did catch mine,” Thomas didn’t have mercy with Newt’s poor heart’s condition. “I was nervous as fuck before even talking to you. My heart was like… trying to get out of my chest, you know.”  
> Mine does it now. Ouch.  
> “So you decided to jump me?” he attempted to break the spell somehow, but only made Thomas to laugh again, and ouch, ouch, ouch.

Newt didn’t want to allow himself to be disappointed when his shift stumbled towards the end and there was no coffee to greet him or at least made his day more pleasant. Thomas didn’t appear and Minho didn’t say a word about it, even though it was only them two in the studio, chattering like normal. Teresa had an emergency day off and Newt wasn’t sure how Minho would like to talk or not, so he went to work with rather mixed feelings, just to be greeted with a cheerful hi that sort of dissipated the worry.

Or maybe multiplied it, who knew.

Of course, he refused to butt into their business if he could help it, so Minho not breaching the issue was actually a blessing – except of Thomas’ blatant ignorance. And yeah, Newt wanted to ask about his whereabouts three times in total during the day, but he always stopped himself before opening his mouth and had to praise himself for it.

He didn’t care the guy wasn’t here to bother him. Maybe it was simply his answer to Teresa’s accusations as well, so even better, saved him the trouble.

He stopped with sweeping of his workplace in thought and let out a long, suffering sigh. Alright, fine, maybe it did bother him a bit, since he kind of didn’t want to think of Thomas as a vile person after all this time. Sure, he had no high hopes for him either, but definitely not as low as this showed it to be.

“Good job today,” Minho interrupted him from his thoughts, flashing him a smile, and Newt was kind of glad to be dragged away from the unhappy ideas. “Thanks for covering for Tesa. It doesn’t usually happen.”

“It’s fine,” Newt assured him and propped against the broom to look at his boss. It was getting late and the sky outside already darkened and he wondered if Minho even tried to contact Teresa or not, after what happened. “I’ll close if you need to go sooner.”

“All good, no plans for today,” Minho assured him while moving around the studio, making it look a bit more presentable again. Then he stopped and his shoulders sagged a little.

“Say, Newt.”

“Hm?”

“How bad was it the day before?”

Of course he would ask after all, Newt thought. Everybody would probably feel guilty over it after a time, especially when she aimed all the blame towards the two.

“You took the worst of it,” he replied simply and Minho quietly nodded. He didn’t look like it comforted him though. “She fell asleep right after. No biggie.”

“I see. Sorry you had to hear that.”

“I’ve been a witness to worse things,” Newt assured him, but doubted it made Minho any calmer. It hadn’t been that much of an issue, but he definitely couldn’t want an outsider to know about it, no matter how minor it had been – especially as a boss. “And I don’t judge.”

“Good to know,” Minho nodded again, but his mouth was in an unhappy shape anyway and Newt wasn’t sure how to fix it, so he rather started sweeping the floor again. Getting caught up in a drama that didn’t involve him was usually a bad decision after all.

***

He planned to go straight home – he actually set it as a goal today with his body rather heavy and mind still sleepy to catch up with the weird deficit he accumulated during the week. The plan crumbled right the moment he set his foot out of the studio and realized Thomas had been sitting next to the entrance in a red hoodie and black pants, looking a little lost. The sky had been dark and wind chilly for summer and Newt wasn’t sure what to say at first.

“Um,” he shut the door closed behind him and walked towards the man with raised eyebrows before stopping in front of him. “You okay, mate?”

“Sure am,” Thomas responded while glancing up and his lips were smiling, although it barely reached his eyes. His hair was in complete disarray again and Newt had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out and do something about it. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greeted him back and glanced towards the café. It was already closed, it’s door firmly shut and the window dark, so what was Thomas doing here? “How long are you sitting here?”

“Around two hours?” Thomas let out a shrug.

“Oh boy,” Newt rolled his eyes and shivered when unusually cold wind blew against him. Was this guy freezing his ass out here for two hours just for shit and giggles? “Why?”

“Well,” the brunet glanced towards the studio and then back at Newt, his eyes unsure. “I’ve wanted to stop by. But then I felt bad for doing it, after what happened with Teresa. So I thought about it, and truth to be told I’m still thinking, but now you’re here and I guess that gave me the answer.”

“Teresa had a day off,” Newt pointed out and when Thomas still didn’t look like he wanted to get up, he squatted next to him with a heavy sigh. “Isn’t it a bit cowardly, not wanting to face her?”

“Huh?” Thomas looked at him in mild confusion, but then his face cleared again. “Oh. I wasn’t afraid of facing her. I thought facing you would be worse.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Thomas avoided Newt’s eyes and stared somewhere in front of him. The cars were passing them in a loud rumble and Newt kind of expected people walking by to throw money soon. At least he thought they looked rather pitiful – or maybe Thomas more, since his natural energy was missing somewhat and it bothered Newt a lot. Surely few words spoken couldn’t have such an impact on the guy? Unless they were absolutely true or even worse and he knew that.

“Thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” the brunet added almost sheepishly and Newt let out a chuckle without being able to stop himself. Was Thomas afraid Newt would play a social warrior and beat him with a broom for ditching a girl after two months? Jesus, there were much worse break ups, and shorter ones. Sure, he could after the club night, but when Teresa told him the whole thing, it wasn’t probably that bad how it first seemed. Not nice, yeah. But not tragic.

“Cuz you dated Tesa?” he nudged him with his shoulder and Thomas nudged him back, his lips finally curling up in a sincere smile.

“Cuz of what she said?” he opposed then, but his voice was lighter and Newt decided it sounded better. “And who knows what else she told you. I’m not trying to play a saint; I did break up with her after two months after all.”

“That’s not a crime, you know,” Newt pointed out. He wasn’t sure why he wanted Thomas to cheer up – what Teresa told him still stood and he wasn’t sure how truthful or reliable it had been, but somehow seeing Thomas so down made him uneasy. “Not saying you weren’t a douche, cuz maybe you were, but still.”

“Yeah, guess I am a douche,” Thomas nodded with a hum. “My relationships sucked so far. I’m so lame when it comes to it.”

“Like bored?” Newt offered, since it had been hanging in between them since Teresa accused him in the club, and Thomas barked out a laugh.

“Not really,” he shrugged after and took a deep breath - a motion that made his whole body move up and then back down as if in defeat. “I didn’t love her. Then I felt bad for it and the more I thought about the issue, the worse it had been.”

“So why have you dated her?” Newt blinked in surprise and it almost sounded like Teresa when she told him about it. She didn’t really love him either, right? Liked him, yeah, and fancied him as well, but she seemed like it was enough, like she knew the love would happen shortly after. Was Thomas different?

“I thought it would come after knowing her better?” the brunet said as if he wasn’t sure himself. “But it did not. I mean, she’s fun and everything, it just wasn’t enough. When I thought about spending my life with her, it came out blank. Like, nothing at all. And I know she wants to have family and everything, so I just felt bad for keeping her locked like that.”

“Huh.”

“I came to the studio to meet them both, her and Minho, when Minho got the place. He is a cool guy, so there is nothing unlikable about him. Teresa was this nice girl you meet in the neighbourhood and when we talked more, she seemed like she was interested. So when she asked later if we should date, I thought it was the right thing to do?” Thomas sighed and it sounded a little guilty. Was he bad at saying no to people?

“Oh, she asked?” Newt tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah. All dominant, that’s her, you know,” Thomas laughed and for some reason Newt believed him. Teresa gave the caring vibe, as well as leading one. He was pretty sure if she wanted something, she wasn’t afraid to reach for it and take it, if possible. “She’s fine. I still do like her a lot, it’s just complicated. I know I hurt her. I just didn’t know how much until… well, until what you’ve seen in the club the other day.”

“Maybe you should be telling this to her instead?” Newt proposed quietly, even though he was glad Thomas gave him his side of the story too. It gave him a different insight and both version kind of clicked, even though Thomas still had been at fault anyway. It just didn’t bother Newt that much anymore.

“I tried to apologize,” Thomas countered immediately and Newt could imagine how that probably went down, judging from Teresa’s remarks anytime Thomas was in close vicinity. “But I guess it wasn’t very effective after dumping her.”

“Pretty sure,” Newt chimed.

“I still consider love important, you know,” Thomas mumbled and dragged his knees closer to his chest, like a kid. Newt almost laughed at the position, just a pout was missing. “But I admit telling her this wasn’t exactly reasonable.”

“You told her you’re breaking up cuz you don’t love her?” Newt gawked on him. Surely Teresa must have kicked him out in a blink of an eye after.

“More or less,” the brunet shrugged and Newt buried his face into his hands in disbelief. Was this guy ten years old? Telling this to a girl, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s just…” Thomas made a vague hand gesture and it reminded Newt of Alby, always searching for the right word like this, making hand gestures to the left and right. “I always kind of wondered how being in love feels, so I kept on searching. And all I got was curiosity, maybe some sort of… wonder. But I didn’t know. Now looking back at it after I met you, it just feels I had been stupid as fuck.”

“Ah?” Newt looked at him in a question.

“That day in the club when we first met?” Thomas returned the gaze and suddenly Newt understood. Thomas was telling him he fell in love? With Newt? For real?

“I was drunk out of my mind,” he blurted out in panic and it made Thomas chuckle. It was a nice sound, yeah, but it made Newt’s heart to beat even faster on board of painful and he was pretty sure the next laugh would cause him a heart attack. What was he supposed to do? Was there a confession coming? What one had to do with a confession?!

“Yeah, in the end you were smashed like hell,” Thomas agreed in amusement, hopefully oblivious of the inner panic Newt was fighting inside. “But I’ve seen you right the moment you got there. All pretty and glowy-,”

“Wait, what? Glowy?” Newt stopped him to somehow prevent it and Thomas shrugged with a smirk on his face.

“Pretty much,” he confirmed it. “In white and blond and all. Catching everybody’ eye.”

“Oh please.”

“You definitely did catch mine,” Thomas didn’t have mercy with Newt’s poor heart’s condition. “I was nervous as fuck before even talking to you. My heart was like… trying to get out of my chest, you know.”

_Mine does it now. Ouch._

“So you decided to jump me?” he attempted to break the spell somehow, but only made Thomas to laugh again, and _ouch, ouch, ouch_.

“Me?” the brunet nudged his shoulder in reverse and Newt felt himself stiffening. What did he mean, _me_? Newt didn’t remember as much, sure, but wasn’t it Thomas who initiated it? “You told me to go with you outside, pretty face.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Newt groaned and hid his face in the sleeve of his jacket. Surely he wasn’t so damn slutty? Where did all his self-respect go?

“Not at all,” the smug smile on Thomas’ lips was warranted and Newt wanted to push him away to avoid it, but it would seem petty. “But if it makes you feel better, I initiated the second one-,”

“I remember the second one,” Newt stopped him with a sharp breath. It was sloppy and not experienced at all and yet Newt enjoyed it and that guilty feeling stayed with him even in a sober state. But if it was him who invited Thomas first… bloody hell.

Thomas didn’t really say anything, but he kept on watching him with a small smile on his lips and Newt didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Sorry I didn’t bring you coffee today,” he heard the brunet saying and it took him a second to realize what he meant, his thoughts were swirling around like wasps that got their nest destroyed.

A coffee? Oh yeah. He always got him coffee when Newt had been working. He felt bummed out about not getting one today, true.

“Disappointing,” he stated. “Very disappointing.”

“I will make it up to you,” Thomas assured him and Newt felt a gentle squeeze on his arm before it disappeared again. “Will bring it to you tomorrow. A big one.”

“Still disappointing,” Newt grumbled, his heart refusing to stop hammering in his chest.

 _Calm down,_ he thought. _Get a grip._

“Should I kiss it better then?” the brunet offered and _ouch, ouch, ouch_.

“You should go somewhere less public in that case,” sounded above them suddenly and Newt almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed Minho standing at the door of the studio, looking at them with a smirk, all dressed up and with a bag over his shoulder. Newt completely forgot that he stayed in the studio the moment he found Thomas sitting here.

“Shit, you two at one place is bad for my heart,” the blond grumbled and finally got himself back on his feet, and Thomas followed him right away. The noticeable change in the mood was almost palpable and even though it suited Thomas better, Newt was pretty sure it meant something bad for him personally. “Both ninjas.”

"Are you implying some sort of conspiracy?" Thomas winked at Newt and didn’t look even a little apologetic, which made Minho behind them laugh while locking the studio and pulling the bars down.

“Don’t push it, man,” he told Thomas in amusement. “Let the poor guy breathe.”

“He is breathing,” the brunet pointed out and Newt kind of wanted to say _barely_ , but held himself back.

If Minho noticed, he had the sharpest senses in the whole world and Newt was starting to be afraid of him. And maybe of his own heart too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> Christmas? What Christmas D: Three days and it feels like nothing is going on lol.


	8. Anonymous said: "I think you missed your calling," Newt chuckled at Thomas' frowny face.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I get your phone number then?” Thomas immediately remedied that and Newt turned to him once the lock clicked closed and he was officially done with work for today. “I swear I won’t be calling you in the middle of the night because I miss you. Even though I do.”  
> “You’d try that only once,” Newt rolled his eyes, but gave him his number anyway. If it was about to bite him in the ass later, he would at least know to blame himself profusely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of M rating.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Alby put down the cup with tea he made himself in Newt’s kitchen, and stared at the flat owner walking from room to room with piercing eyes. “You have like, 80 % chance or more, that he won’t date anybody longer than few months – you actually have a proof he broke up with Teresa after two – and you still talk like this?”

“All I’m saying is that he apparently can’t say no and doesn’t think of consequences of doing so,” Newt opposed while pulling a shirt over his head. He had to go to work in half an hour and the philosophical talking with Alby didn’t really set the mood for him to arrive with a smile. He didn’t even know why he talked to him about Thomas, since nothing good ever came from it, but when Alby asked about Teresa today – and then somehow managed to mention her ex – Newt completely forgot Alby didn’t know his two nights stand and Teresa’s ex-boyfriend were the same person, hence The TalkTM.

“Can’t say no to pretty ladies, surely no other ulterior motive was making him do it,” his friend commented rather flatly and Newt glared at him while picking up his pants from the arm chair.

“There are people like that, you know,” he grumbled and the dissatisfaction of having Thomas badmouthed like he knew him was somehow making his mood drop like lead. “They just go with the flow. Or people who don’t want to be alone or something. So they’re like… _you wish for it? Alright_.”

“And then dump them like trash, perfect tactics,” Alby didn’t back down and Newt probably kind of understood – he didn’t make it a secret that Teresa was his type after all. It would be weird if he sided with her ex in the matter. It still made Newt piqued though, and even though Alby didn’t came here to pick a fight, Newt kind of wanted to accuse him from doing so.

_Probably because I slept so badly._

“I’d do the same if I find out I don’t love them,” he stated probably colder than he intended and Alby stopped drinking his tea and looked at him like he just made a discovery worth an award. Newt didn’t want to know what it was supposed to be, but he was pretty sure Alby wouldn’t spare him anyway.

“Oh boy,” Alby let out and his tone was telling Newt nothing pretty was coming after. “You’re already in love with him.”

“Excuse me?” the blond stopped mid-step and almost dropped his pants on the floor. “Because I said he’s bad at saying no?”

“Apart from the fact that you keep on defending him,” Alby pointed out with obnoxiously apparent need to get Newt where he wanted him and Newt _hated_ it, “you look like that time you were crushing on that delivery guy, remember? You had the same look on your face; until you found out he was married-,”

“Thank you for reminding me,” Newt interrupted him with a sigh and returned back to his jeans while jumping on one foot, then on another to pull them on. “And you’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not wrong,” Alby retorted and crossed his arms on his chest like he just won something – probably a fist in his face if he wanted to keep it up. “I’ve seen this. I know how you act and this is _exactly_ it. Hell, you even slept with him already.”

“No, I did not,” Newt glared at him while fighting with his belt. “I was drunk and we just dabbled. _Because I was drunk_.”

“Yeah, twice,” Alby added to it smugly and Newt refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting _anything_. “Like you calling him _Tommy_ is not enough of a proof you’re slipping already.”

“Oh, so now I’m slipping? Just few seconds ago I was surely in love,” Newt immediately reacted and finally the buckle clicked. He didn’t remember buying a chastity belt, geez. “Guess you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I give you a week,” Alby ignored the jab profusely. “One week only. Pretty sure you’re going to be sitting at the window by then and sighing like a lovesick teenager, if not already dating the guy.”

“I’m not a dating type, you know that,” Newt uttered dryly and glanced at his watch. It was almost time to leave. “So-,”

“So the sighing then,” Alby interrupted him. “That’s going to be fun.”

“Later, Alby,” he grumbled and left the flat with loud stomping. He hated the fact Alby knew him so well sometimes, especially when it came to love troubles.

And he was _not_ in love, for fuck’s sake.

***

“Oh man, I love you.”

“Now that’s something I like to hear,” Thomas grinned at the blond while handing him an enormous cup of deliciously smelling coffee and seemingly stopped caring Teresa was present and glaring at him from her spot. “We should make this an official greeting from now on.”

“As long as it involves coffee,” Newt bubbled into the drink with sated sigh and Minho on the other side of the studio barked out a laugh. The moment Newt arrived to work he had to take an extra customer and had zero time to make himself a cup – even at home he skipped to make one how Alby threw him out of balance and kind of wondered how he was able to function up until now. He usually crawled without his dose of caffeine in the morning, so he counted it on adrenaline from how Alby riled him up.

“Never heard of a love story where one of the lovers had been a cup of coffee before,” Minho commented amusedly while swiftly cutting hair of his client, and Thomas made a face at him. He came from work again, dressed in his waiter’s clothes, and Newt had to admit the more he saw him in them, the more he appreciated the view.

“Shh, he told me he loves _me_ , not the cup,” the brunet opposed and flashed a smile when Newt looked at him with a raised eyebrow. That was probably a mistake, somehow Newt’s heart skipped a beat and Alby would laugh at it. “Yeah?”

_Welp. There goes my attempt to keep it low._

“I love everyone who brings me coffee,” Newt retorted in defence and heard Teresa snorting behind them. “No offence.”

“None taken as long as it’s always me,” Thomas didn’t back down an inch and Newt kind of wanted to whine, but somehow held back. Instead of it focused on a ringtone that played about three times already during Thomas’ visit, but it took him a while before he realized it was coming from the man himself and not one of the bags the clients left on the table. When his gaze travelled down to find out from _where_ it had been ringing, he heard Thomas chuckling.

“See something you like?” he asked and Newt almost answered _well, yeah, you_ before catching himself in time.

“Your butt is ringing,” he blurted out instead and looked back up, just to see Thomas blinking in surprise until it caught up with him. Before he could fish out his phone, the ringing stopped, and the doors to the studio opened to reveal a short haired girl in the same attire Thomas had, looking positively pissy. She was rather petite and cute looking, but definitely furious.

“Thomas, get your ass back to work,” she hissed at him without any pleasantries to the rest of the people and her dark eyes were trying to murder him on the spot. “I called you three times, you total slacker!”

“Can’t you wait for five for minutes?” Thomas said back in an annoyed tone and she sputtered out few really nasty curse words (probably in Spanish, if Newt wanted to be a judge of that) before barking out _no_ and left the studio like a tidal wave while closing the door with a loud bang.

“I think you missed your calling,” Newt chuckled at Thomas' frowny face. “Thanks for the coffee though. Are you always in trouble when coming here?”

“Only when Brenda is covering for me,” Thomas uttered unhappily and despite being called out on it, he didn’t look like he wanted to leave. Newt would even say he stepped a little closer to him than before and for some reason it wasn’t even bothering the blond as it should have.

_Oh god, shut up Alby voiced conscience._

“Wonder why, huh,” Teresa chimed into the conversation and Newt wasn’t even surprised when Thomas sent her a deadly glare. It only made her smirk though.

“When are you off work?” the brunet apparently decided to ignore her again, since he returned his gaze to Newt and suddenly the blond realized they were standing so close to each other that if he tipped his head a little, they could be kissing.

Now he kind of understood why the women sitting near them kept on staring, and really, _when_ did Thomas got so close?

“Six,” he caught himself dropping the voice low like he was telling a secret and Thomas’ lips finally curled up in a smile again.

“I will wait for you?”

_No. No no no._

“Mhm,” Newt hummed instead and a warm hand touched his waist for a second, before it was gone again and Thomas was leaving with a satisfied expression on his face.

Newt refused to turn around, since it would mean he would see Teresa staring at him like he grew another head and probably ask questions he had no answers to.

***

“I realized I don’t have your phone number.”

Newt only snorted when locking up the studio while Thomas had been standing next to the door in his civil clothes. The clock showed something past 6 and both Teresa and Minho left already and he was kind of glad, since as much as he liked Teresa, he didn’t need another set of warning talks - Alby was enough this morning. Not to mention neither she nor Minho needed to know Newt actually met up with Thomas or went somewhere with him, even though there was no cup with coffee to greet him this time as it always had been.

_Well, no more I love you’s, I guess._

“Might be because I never gave you my phone number,” the blond reasoned and pulled down the bars to lock it as well. “Or you never asked.”

“Can I get your phone number then?” Thomas immediately remedied that and Newt turned to him once the lock clicked closed and he was officially done with work for today. “I swear I won’t be calling you in the middle of the night because I miss you. Even though I do.”

“You’d try that only once,” Newt rolled his eyes, but gave him his number anyway. If it was about to bite him in the ass later, he would at least know to blame himself profusely. “So what’s up with that cover of yours?”

“Cover of mine?” the brunet repeated while saving the number and Newt was pretty sure it didn’t spell _Newt_ in there, but something much more embarrassing. He kind of wanted to ask but thought better of it and left Thomas be.

“Well, the girl that came to get you back to work today?” Newt pointed out and when Thomas started walking, he joined him without a second thought. “She seemed pissed off.”

“She was pissed off,” Thomas laughed and pointed at his cheek. “She even slapped me. See how much I have to sacrifice to bring you coffee every day?”

“You poor thing,” Newt let out and it didn’t sound apologetic at all. He wasn’t even surprised when Thomas only faked a pout at it. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please,” Thomas naturally reacted and when he really stopped like he waited for Newt to fulfil the promise, the blond groaned and then pressed his lips against his cheek like anybody would to their kids while leaving them in front of the school.

“You’re such a kid,” he pointed out with a sigh, but Thomas grinned at him anyway. “Maybe you earned the slap she gave you after all.”

“She likes to do that, makes her feel powerful,” the brunet shrugged and sneaked his arm around Newt’s waist, then started walking again. Newt didn’t bother doing anything about it, his mind was already too occupied anyway. Who was that girl? Another dumpee of his? Dating two months, and then leaving her, like he did with Teresa? Since it was Teresa who implied that sort of thing – it was pretty much possible she knew her, or had seen it beforehand too?

“Pissy people had that right,” he commented quietly. He wanted to ask but had no idea how without sounding like a total idiot. “Where are we going?”

“Well, you had only one coffee today,” Thomas shrugged while leading them somewhere forward. “So I thought I gotta treat you to another, to fill up the deficit.”

“Aren’t you a sweet one,” Newt stated, but it warmed him inside anyway, and he didn’t know if he hated it or welcomed it. Sure, he didn’t want to give Alby the satisfaction of being right, but the longer he spent with Thomas, the more his defences crumbled until there was a threat of them disappearing completely, and he was aware of it.

“I try,” Thomas returned and somehow his happiness calmed Newt down, although it was probably a mistake. But Newt was, ultimately, tired of defying the gravity.

***

“Have you ever heard of… Maladaptive daydreaming?”

Newt shook his head and bit Thomas’ shoulder to keep quiet, even though it took him a chunk of willpower he never thought he still possessed. He was clutching Thomas’ arms in no doubt painful grip, but the brunet didn’t say a single word against it and knee was pressing between Newt’s legs to offer the right friction, which was making Newt to lose all his coherence slowly, but surely.

“It’s an… extensive fantasy activity that replaces human interaction and interferes with social functioning – stop biting,” the pressure eased off a little and Newt whined and let go, just to place his hands on the back of Thomas’ head, pulling him lower for another kiss. It was just that and his legs were already quivering and barely keeping him standing, and when he felt his partner fumbling with his belt, it shot right through him like a lightning bolt.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” he breathed out, already missing the warmth when Thomas pulled away a fraction, frowning somewhere below Newt’s waist. And people usually didn’t do that, mind you.

“Is this a chastity belt or something?”

“Pfff.”

Thomas’ absolutely frustrated look was priceless and Newt couldn’t help but laugh, especially when the brunet gave the belt another experimental tug, but nothing happened.

“Sure, I wore it just for you, like it?” Newt chuckled and almost lost it when Thomas shook his head with a pout and his fingers hooked up by jeans’ loopholes, pulling slightly. That probably made Newt take a pity on the guy and after a moment of struggling he actually managed to unbuckle it while mentally deciding not to wear it ever again, for his own sake.

Thomas, naturally, took it as an invitation and Newt wouldn’t deny it sort of had been one anyway. He let himself to be kissed while Thomas worked his way inside of Newt’s jeans, and Newt’s breath hitched when he felt his hand circling around him, making him moan a little.

 “I had been dreaming about this all the damn time,” he heard Thomas whispering into his ear and the weakness was slowly returning to his knees with every stroke. “I was called on spacing out at work too. I didn’t know how to get to closer to you, it was making me _mad_.”

“Oh p-please,” Newt attempted to laugh, but it came out rather broken and sounding more like a sob. He could barely keep his breath evened and Thomas’ pace didn’t relent. It was so damn sloppy, but so bloody good he just didn’t understand _how_ was Thomas doing this to him. He wasn’t even drunk and his completely sober self still loved the touches that were slowly bringing him to orgasm, and small kisses that landed on his neck, and then the big ones that left marks on his skin as well. “How difficult would it be for y-you to get a sex friend?”

“I don’t want a sex friend,” Thomas opposed and Newt let out a yelp when the touch disappeared and strong hands gripped his waist and pushed him up, making the blond instinctively circle his legs around Thomas’ hips to prevent from falling, and grip his shoulders to still himself. “I‘m really trying my best here, you know.”

“That’s debatable,” Newt managed before the touch was back and his body shivered. “You s-still kinda suck, you know.”

“I didn’t suck yet,” Thomas responded and closed the gap between them, swallowing Newt’s hysterical laugh with his mouth in a kiss.

It was ridiculous, Newt decided. _Ridiculous_ , since he had no bloody excuse now. No alcohol, no nothing – he ended up here, on the toilet with Thomas by his own volition, without complaining and he had no idea why, except of the fact common sense simply refused to work around this guy.

Although maybe, possibly, this was what they called falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetad!
> 
> Aaaaaaand Christmas are over.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add tags accordingly as the story progresses ^^'


End file.
